Candy Canes and Cockroaches
by Grissom
Summary: --Story Complete--Grissom invites Sara to spend the holidays with him and his family. GS, of course.
1. Chapter One

Title: Candy Canes and Cockroaches

Author: Grissom "mailto:dragonrulerofwhs@yahoo.com" 

Summary: Grissom invites Sara to spend the holidays with him and his family. 

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI, sadly. I also make no money off of writing this, but I think you already know that. I also do not own the songs listed in the story. They all belong to their respected performers.

Archiving: If you really want to, just drop an e-mail to let me know where!

And special thanks to Grissomgal71 for her awesome beta job!

The chorus of 'Jingle Bell Rock' could be heard all through the lab, lifting the spirits of the graveyard shift. Three days until Christmas, and they were all stuck on one case or another.

Grissom couldn't help but hum along to the music as he made his way to the source, Greg Sanders. The young lab technician, dressed in a Santa hat and a Christmas M&M's t-shirt under his lab coat, was bobbing his head to the music as he bustled around the lab. He was just pulling some liquid out of a tube when he noticed the supervisor standing at the door, his face unreadable.

Instinctively, he reached over and switched the music off, awaiting the reprimand for the volume.

But Grissom didn't say anything about the music. Instead he stepped inside and leaned against the counter. "Please tell me you got something back on the McEwart case."

Greg grinned, reaching for a folder that lay near the fume hood. He picked it up, handing it to Grissom with a bow of his head. "_Someone_ should be spending Christmas at the county prison."

Grissom took the file, giving Greg a curious expression. He flipped it open, looked over the contents, then looked back up at Greg with a small smile on his face. "This is very good, Greg."

Greg beamed. That was high praise coming from Grissom. He leaned back in his chair. "Well, thank you sir. Now, about my Christmas bonus…"

Grissom raised an eyebrow at him. "We'll see, Greg." He closed the file then headed towards the door. He paused at the CD player, then surprised Greg by turning it back on, letting the music fill the halls once again.

On his way back to his office to call Brass, Grissom passed by many lab technicians, all talking excitedly about their Christmas plans as they headed home. Grissom shook his head, then continued his trek to his office. He finally reached it, surprised to see that the door was slightly ajar. He distinctly remembered closing it before heading off to see Greg.

Curious, he pushed it completely open. He was surprised to see a decent pile of gifts stacked up on his desk. Frowning to himself, he picked up one, reading the card.

__

For all you've shown me over the years to help make me a great CSI -Nick.

He smirked, then carefully tore the shoddily wrapped paper from the box. He shook his head when he had revealed what was underneath: a Chem Lab 600. He made a mental note to thank Nick and then stick him on another odd case as 'punishment' for the joke. He was still smiling as he picked up the next box.

__

From me and Linds. She loved the ladybug sweatshirt you got her. Merry Christmas! ~Catherine.

Grissom smiled at this, remembering the purple ladybug sweatshirt he had given to Lindsey earlier that week. The girl had obviously been expecting something odd or scientific, and was genuinely pleased with his gift. He tore the wrapping from this one, revealing a UPS box underneath. He found some scissors within a desk drawer, then cut the tape. He took out the contents of the box and grinned.

It was a small box of fly eggs, perfect for his maggot farm. And right behind it was a box of chocolate-covered grasshoppers. He laughed to himself, shaking his head. It seemed that only he would ever get those for gifts and actually be happy about it. He set the box of eggs carefully on a corner of his desk, then placed the grasshoppers in his mini-fridge. He picked up the next gift, which was really just an envelope.

It was, to Grissom's amusement, a singing Christmas card. He couldn't open the thing without having to listen to 'Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer'. Hoping that no one would walk by his office, he quickly read the note inside.

__

Saw the card, figured you'd love it since you're the 'holiday joy' kind of guy. Have a happy Christmas ~**Warrick Brown**.

Grissom shook his head, pulling out the piece of paper inside the card as he quickly shut it, glad to be rid of the insistent tone. He glanced at the paper, seeing that it was a fifty-dollar gift certificate to a local restaurant. He smirked, realizing that besides bugs and science stuff, none of his team had a clue what he liked. Warrick had obviously been at a loss, so he'd gone with the ever-safe gift certificate and comical card.

He was still trying to think of what he could do to Warrick in return as he looked over the rest of the gifts. Most were from various lab technicians, wanting to get on the boss's good side. Most of those also consisted of gift certificates, but thankfully none of the cards sang.

He piled up the gift certificates and cards, moving to put them in a desk drawer. He glanced at his phone, mentally kicking himself when he remembered that he was supposed to call Brass. Sighing, he shut the drawer and picked up the phone.

******

Sara sighed as she pulled her jacket from her locker. _Two days until Christmas_. She should have been happy, but instead felt as if there were a huge weight on her shoulders. She was supposed to be visiting her cousins in California, but her Yukon had chosen this time to break down, stranding her without a vehicle. Either Catherine or Nick had been giving her rides to and from work, but she knew asking them to give her a lift to Cali was being a little extreme. They may love her to death, but she couldn't expect them to voluntarily take a long trip to and from Marina Del Rey.

She was pulling her jacket on when a small, brightly colored package in her locker caught her eye. She shook her head, remembering what it was. It was the Christmas gift she'd gotten Grissom. While she'd already given out everyone else's gifts, she'd held back on his for some reason. She knew that she'd spent far too much on it, but also knew that wasn't the reason for her hesitation. 

She'd bought it for him almost on a whim, not even thinking of how he may feel about her at that point. He seemed to ignore her most of the time, giving her the impression that he just wanted her to disappear and be gone from his life. How would she feel if he tried to refuse the gift? She also knew that he had already given gifts to the rest of the team. But for some reason or another, hadn't given her one.

Sara shook her head, still staring at the box. She was so entranced in it she didn't realize anyone else had walked into the locker room until she felt a hand on her shoulder. She jumped slightly, then turned to look into a pair of bright, blue eyes.

"You ok?" Grissom asked her, his voice showing genuine concern.

Sara nodded, quickly looking away from him. "Yeah, fine. Holiday blues, you know?"

He smiled, completely understanding. "Look on the bright side. Violent crimes usually drop a bit during the Christmas season." 

She gave him a tentative smile in return. "Yeah."

He patted her shoulder once, then went to his own locker, pulling out his jacket. "Got a DNA match from the McEwart case. Our suspect's DNA matches the blood we found on Victor McEwart's hands. Put that together with the gun and the blood on the suspect's clothing, and we got our case solved," he said, almost conversationally.

Sara sighed in relief. _When all else fails, turn to work_, she thought to herself. "That's great, Grissom. Another case off of our table." She glanced at the gift once more, then shut her locker, deciding that it wouldn't be appropriate to give it to him. "I'll see you later, I guess," she said, heading towards the door.

"Oh, Sara," he called, causing her to stop and turn back to him. She watched as he dug through his locker for a moment, pulling out a snowman bag. He handed it to her, smiling sheepishly. "I tried to give this to you earlier, but you were on the scene with Vega."

She took the bag, staring at it as if it were a block of solid gold. After a moment, she realized that he was still watching her, obviously wanting to see her expression when she saw what it was. She smiled at him politely, then opened the bag, pulling out the green and red tissue paper. 

Her eyes widened slightly when she finally pulled out the gift. It was actually a set; a matching pair of gloves, a scarf, and a cap. They were a dark blue, with intricately embroidered butterflies on them. Looking closer at the beautiful designs, she could see that great pains had been taken to make the insects as accurate as possible. She looked up at Grissom, lost for words.

He noticed her dilemma and smiled. "Don't worry about it."

"Thank you, Grissom," she finally managed to say, glancing at the small card.

__

Merry Christmas. From Grissom.

She smiled, looking over the items once again. "These are beautiful. Where on earth did you get them?"

He shrugged. "My mother makes them. She gets a little bored sometimes, so she started knitting and sewing. I asked her a few months ago to make these for me. I thought you'd like them," he added, suddenly fearing that she might not really like them. 

But she was already pulling them on, still admiring the butterflies. "I love them, and they fit perfectly!" A thought suddenly hit her. _He asked his mother to make these a few months ago? But, he hasn't talked to me in months._ She smiled to herself. "Thank you," she repeated, giving him a full-fledged Sara Sidle smile. "And tell your mother that these are beautiful."

He tilted his head, pulling his jacket on. "I'll do that." He made his way to the door, after grabbing his battered briefcase and shutting the locker. "I hope you have a good Christmas, Sara. I really do."

"You not coming in tomorrow?" she asked, putting a hand on her locker.

He shook his head. "No. I'm going to visit my mother for Christmas. I took all week off." He fixed his eyes on her. "What are you doing for Christmas?"

"Well, I was going to visit my cousins in California, but my Yukon died. So now I guess I'm stranded here. Guess I'll just come into work."

Grissom glanced down at the floor, as if trying to decide something. "How long were you going to stay?"

"Until the twenty-eighth."

Grissom thought to himself for a moment. He was going to stay with his mother until the twenty-eighth as well, giving him enough time to drive back to Vegas and be at work on the Monday after Christmas. He shifted his feet for a moment. "Do you…you want a lift? I mean, my mother lives in Marina Del Rey, runs an art gallery there. I could drop you off at your cousins then pick you up on the twenty-eighth."

Sara stared at him as if he had sprouted another arm. Had he just offered to spend 4 and a half hours with her in a car? Driving her to her cousins? She worked her mouth for a moment, unsure of what to say. "Grissom…I…" she trailed off, unable to think of something intelligent to say.

He caught her hesitation and nodded, thinking that he wouldn't want to spend the day in a car with himself either. "I understand. Don't worry about it." He gave her a small, shy smile, then turned to leave. 

Sara took a step towards him, touching his arm to stop him. He halted, looking down at her hand idly. "Grissom…" she began. Then she sighed, letting her hand fall from his arm. "I'd appreciate it. I really would," she said, unsure of how to accept his offer.

But he seemed to have gotten the message. He smiled at her. "Good. Pick you up tomorrow?" he asked, tucking a hand in his pocket to prevent her from seeing them shake. He was shocked by his own boldness. Whatever had possessed him, making him offer her a ride to California. As much as he wanted to be alone with Sara, he wasn't sure that she was up to the same thing. 

She smiled back, similar thoughts running through her own head. "Sure. Meet you here." He nodded, then turned again to leave, but she called him back again, opening her locker to pull out the decorative box. She grinned shyly, handing it to him. "Merry Christmas," she said, then walked past him to catch Nick for a ride.

He watched her retreating form for a moment before turning to study the gift in his hands. He turned the card over, a smile blossoming over his face as he read the chicken-scratch handwriting. _How ironic,_ he thought to himself.

__

From Sara


	2. Chapter Two

The next day, Sara felt as if she were going to explode. She had gone home, slept a few fitful hours, then woken up. She realized then that Grissom hadn't told her a time to meet him at the lab, and nor had she thought to ask. The thought of spending at least a bit of the holidays with Grissom had made her mind go completely blank.

She hopped out of her bed, rushed through a shower, then began haphazardly packing the things she'd need for her trip. After sitting on the suitcase, she managed to get it closed. She took a few minutes to double-check everything, then called for a cab to bring her to the lab.

She made it there in what she considered record time after rushing the cabbie. She was also well aware that the halls would be full of day shift, being as it was only one in the afternoon. She left her suitcase in the locker room, then headed to his office, praying that Grissom had waited for her. She could only hope he hadn't gotten tired of waiting, or think that she was blowing him off, and left.

Sara turned the corner, bringing Grissom's dark office into view. She noticed that his desk lamp was on, but she knew that sometimes people came snooping through his office for paperwork he had neglected to turn in. She paused at the doorway, squinting to focus in the dim light.

She sighed in disappointment. He wasn't there, but obviously had been recently, since his tarantulas were still happily munching down on their latest meal. She groaned inwardly, seeing no other sign that he could possibly still be at the lab, and turned to step back into the hall.

She was making her way past the break room when someone called her name. Sighing in frustration that had nothing to do with the person calling her, she turned to see who it was.

To her surprise, it was Grissom. He rushed out of the break room to catch up to her. "Where are you going?"

Sara smiled sheepishly. "I thought you'd already left."

He frowned, tilting his head slightly. "Why would I leave without you?"

"I thought…never mind." She waved her hand dismissively, then peered into the break room. It was empty, save for a days lab technician, grabbing a much needed cup of coffee. "What were you doing in there?"

He grinned, holding up a crossword puzzle. "Finishing this while I waited for you."

She returned his smile. "Sorry. I kinda slept in a bit. Then I realized that we didn't set up a time to meet."

Grissom nodded slowly, then held his arm out towards the direction of the locker room. "Shall we?" he asked.

Sara nodded, then followed him to gather up her suitcase. To her pleasant surprise, he scooped up her suitcase for her, not even asking. She smiled to herself. She noticed that he seemed tense as they walked through the lab together, and continued to be as they both got into his Denali. But as soon as they were on their way and away from the lab, she noticed that he seemed to visibly relax.

As they got onto the interstate, he got the SUV up to speed, then turned to her slightly. She was staring out of the window, watching the cars passing by. Some, she saw, were filled with families, on their way to spend the holidays with relatives. Others were filled with individuals, and she could only wonder where they were headed. Were they going to see family? Were they going back to work? Or were they going to spend Christmas with the one they loved? She shook her head, pulling herself out of her philosophical mind set, feeling Grissom's gaze.

She turned to him and he quickly looked back to the road. "What?" she asked him, a small smile crossing her lips.

He shook his head. "Nothing. I was just…" He shook his head, then concentrated on the road again.

Sara smirked, then glanced at the sun visor. Seeing a CD holder, she pulled it down and began to inspect Grissom's CD's. Some were typical of him, Pink Floyd, while others were obviously burnt, and lacked labels. She pulled one out and peered at the blank cover, then turned to Grissom, who had taken to watching her again.

"What's on this one, Grissom?" she asked, holding it out for him to see.

He shrugged. "Hell if I know. I make the CD's sometimes, then forget about them."

She smirked again, the loaded the CD into the player, waiting to see what kind of music the enigmatic Gil Grissom would listen to. Her smile only deepened when the beginning notes to 'Wherever You Will Go' by The Calling filled the car. "You like these guys? Aren't they kind of a boy band?"

Grissom gave her a mock-glare. "They're not a boy band." He shrugged. "I just think it's a beautiful song. And I like to listen to beautiful music."

Sara grinned to herself, thinking of a similar comment he'd said before, though it had been about baseball. For a moment, she thought about repeating her question, but felt it would diminish the value of his reply. _Since I met you…_

He noticed her silence, but didn't comment. Instead, he typically kept his distance, memorizing the license plate of the car in front of them. They drove in silence for a while, the music still playing. Grissom seemed to zone out after a while, not taking in anything except for the movements of the road and cars before him. Whatever he had thought riding for hours with Sara would be like, _this_ was definitely not it. He had expected her to badger him constantly, asking why he had refused her dinner offer and why he kept ignoring her.

He glanced over at her, the saw that she had fallen asleep. Her head rested against the window, with her hands in her lap. He smiled as he gazed at her face, taking in the almost angelic peacefulness that only sleep could bring.

__

A hundred days have made me older,

Since the last time that I saw your pretty face

A thousand lies have made me colder

And I don't think I can look at this the same.

He glanced down at the CD player as sound began to re-register in his mind, the words cutting through his reverie. He listened to the words and sighed, realizing that his choice of music seemed to say for him what he could not. Why couldn't he think of things like this to tell her? Why was the band so capable of speaking _his_ feelings when he couldn't?

__

And all the miles that separate

Disappear now when I'm dreaming of your face

I'm here without you, baby,

But you're still on my lonely mind.

I think about you, baby.

And I dream about you all the time.

I'm here without you, baby, 

But you're still with me in my dreams.

And tonight, it's only you and me.

He sighed at the irony of the lyrics. How often had he thought the same things? Every night he was alone without her, but that didn't stop her from invading his dreams. And when they were apart, which was very often, his mind would still be filled with images of her.

He shook his head. He wasn't making any sense to himself, and it was disturbing him. He glanced down at the CD player briefly, then switched it off, plunging the SUV into silence.

******

Sara awoke suddenly, though she couldn't tell why. Lifting her head from the window, she glanced over at the driver's seat, but it was empty.

Blinking furiously to clear her blurry eyes, she peered out the window. They had stopped at a gas station, and the sun was still high in the sky. She frowned, searching, as best she could, the interior of the convenience store for any sight of Grissom.

The lights in the Denali suddenly came on, startling Sara. She jumped and turned to the driver's seat, seeing a slightly perplexed Grissom staring at her.

"You okay?" he asked slowly, as if afraid she had lost her mind and would attack him.

She nodded slowly, trying to catch her breath. "Fine. You just scared me."

He let a small smile play across his lips, then handed her the Coke he held in his hand. He gave her a small shrug as she peered at the label. "I wasn't sure what you wanted, and you were showing no signs of regaining consciousness."

She smirked, twisting the cap open and taking a long swig. "This is fine. Thanks."

"You're welcome," he replied, starting the SUV up again and pulling out of the parking lot. 

Sara glanced down at the clock. "Whoa! How long was I asleep?"

Grissom's eyes also went to the clock for a second. "About two hours."

Sara's jaw dropped slightly. "I slept two hours? In a car? _Two _hours straight?"

Grissom raised an eyebrow, glancing at her as he made his way back to the interstate. "Yes. Two hours. Why?"

She shrugged. "Nothing. I just…usually don't sleep that long at once."

Grissom smiled, lifting Sara's spirits a bit. She did find it odd that she had been able to sleep that soundly for that long. Perhaps it was the years of sleep-deprivation catching up with her. Or maybe it was the fact that for some reason, she felt safe. She didn't know, but she wasn't going to complain.

She glanced down at the radio, seeing that Grissom had turned it off. She gave him a puzzled look before reaching down to turn it back on. "What's wrong, Grissom. You got some type of embarrassing music on there?"

He shook his head slightly. "No. I just wanted to think."

She shifted in her seat to see him better. "About what?" she ventured.

He shrugged slightly, obviously uncomfortable. "Things. The holidays, my life. Unimportant things."

"Your life is unimportant?" she asked, slightly surprised. Did he truly think so little of himself?

"Well," he drawled, trying to think of words. "In the greater picture, yes. My life is very meaningless. As are most people's lives. But that's depressing, so I don't like to think of the big picture," he finished with a smile.

Sara raised an eyebrow at him, then turned back to her window.


	3. Chapter Three

The next hour seemed to crawl by. Most of the time was spent in silence, with a small, good-natured squabble over the radio now and then. Sara insisted that the car was far too quiet, Grissom claimed that he needed to think. This would lead to a few name-callings, and then Grissom would relent to Sara for a while.

Other times they talked of unimportant subjects. They brushed up on old cases, odd cases, and some cases they would most like to see land in front of them. Sara wanted to find a body in the mountains in the snow; Grissom, of course, wanted to find a bug-infested body. He felt it had been too long since he'd done his insect-regression.

A few times, Sara even insisted that they play car-games to pass the time. They played 'ABC', trying to spell out the alphabet from letters on signs and license plates before the other. Sara had thought that Grissom not wearing his glasses would work to her advantage, but he still beat her by quite a few letters. Eventually, Sara was lulled off to sleep again by the gentle movements of the car.

She was awakened some time later by the feeling of someone shaking her arm gently. She opened her eyes and glared at Grissom, shoving his arm away.

"Go away," she groaned, trying to close her eyes again.

She heard him laugh. "Come on, Sara. I don't know where your cousins live. Or should I drop you off right here and let you walk the rest of the way?"

Her eyes snapped open and she sat up. "We're here?" she asked, getting a nod in reply.

"We're somewhere."

She smirked, stretching her arms. "_That's_ scientific." She peered out of the windows, seeing that he had once again stopped at a gas station. She squinted as she studied her surroundings, searching for something familiar.

She pointed a finger towards a road. "We need to go that way. Then we'll need to turn onto Lincoln Boulevard. They live in a subdivision off that road."

Grissom nodded, then slowly pulled the car in the direction Sara had indicated. They were both silent as Grissom drove, each one secretly dreading the separation that was soon to come. Grissom was silently kicking himself for not using his time alone with Sara more wisely, and Sara was wishing that she hadn't slept so much. 

Grissom followed Sara's directions, turning into a subdivision filled with rather new homes. Some of them didn't even have grass growing in the yard yet. He chose not to comment on it as he pulled up to the house Sara pointed at.

Sara frowned as they approached the house. It was dark, and there wasn't a single Christmas light decorating it. She held a hand up for Grissom to wait as he started to pull out Sara's suitcase for her, then she approached the door. She pounded on the door a few times, then shouted for her cousins. There was still no answer, and she saw no lights or signs of life when she peered into the window.

She sighed in frustration, turning to look at Grissom, who was staring at her with a concerned expression. She shrugged, walking back down the driveway to where he was standing. "They're not there."

"Did they know you were coming?" 

"Yeah! I mean, they invited me."

"Did you tell them that you weren't going to make it because of your car?" Grissom pushed, trying to figure out just why Sara's family was missing. 

She opened her mouth to answer, then clamped it shut, burying her face in her hands. "Yes," she finally said, looking back up at Grissom. "They must have gone to San Francisco, to see the rest of the family, since they thought I wasn't coming."

She slid down the side of the Yukon to sit on the ground, her head in her hands again . This had been it, her one chance for a real holiday, and it was ruined all because of her stupid car! She shook her head. "I guess I could get a hotel. Then I can rent a U-Haul. I mean, you don't have to return those to the original spot." 

Grissom smirked at the thought of Sara driving a U-Haul, but chose not to comment. "Sara…" he began, but she continued to talk.

"It's no problem, really. Go on to your family, Grissom. I'll be fine. I'll just go back and work like I'd planned to do. Major holiday overtime."

She heard a shuffling of feet and assumed that Grissom was moving back to the driver's side, getting ready to leave her. But to her surprise, he hunkered down in front of her, putting his hand on her knee. She looked up at him, finding her face mere inches from his as he stared into her eyes. "Sara, if you want…" he trailed off, glancing down at the ground before looking back up at her. "If you want to, you could come with me. You could spend Christmas with me and my family." He shrugged. "Better than working, anyhow."

Sara stared at him for a moment, unable to think of something coherent to say. Had he really just said what she thought he had said? She shook her head slightly. _This was so un-Grissom_, she thought. First, he offered to drive her to her cousins, and now he was inviting her to stay with him for Christmas. _What's gotten into him lately?_ Sara wasn't sure if she should count it as Grissom's way of reaching out to her, or if he was just being generous for the holidays.

She looked back up at him, seeing the worry etched into his face. "That's all right, Grissom. I'll be fine. I really don't want to intrude on your family."

He moved his hand up to her shoulder, squeezing it gently. "Sara, I wouldn't ask if I didn't want you to come. Believe me, you won't be intruding. For my mother, it really is the more the merrier."

She stared at him for another moment, seeing the hope in his face. _He really does want me to come. Why?_ Sara wondered. Finally she nodded, putting her hand on Grissom's. "Alright then," she said softly.

******

The drive to Grissom's mother's was nearly silent, with only the soft Christmas music from the radio filling the air.

Finally Grissom broke the silence. "I guess I should give you a little hint as to who will be there." He glanced at her for a moment, seeing that he had her full attention. "From what I've heard, my aunt should be there, along with her kids. Well, they're not really kids. They're older than me. My uncle Herb should be there too. He enjoys this holiday stuff."

Sara smirked. "You really do have an Uncle Herb?" she asked, remembering the case with the body in the water heater. "I thought you were just saying that!" She shook her head, the smirk still on her face. "Is he really a plumber?"

It was Grissom's turn to grin. "No. He was a veterinarian."

Sara shrugged. "Big difference."

Grissom nodded, suddenly concentrating intently on the road again. "My mother is also deaf," he said after a few moments of silence.

Sara nodded. "Yeah, I figured so."

Grissom turned to her quickly, the surprise evident on his face. "You did? How?"

"I'm a CSI, Grissom. I get paid to solve puzzles all night long." She shrugged. "So I took the puzzles pieces that are _you_ and put together what I could. You suffered from Otosclerosis, a hereditary hearing disease. You knew sign language, so obviously you were pretty close to someone who was deaf. And you grew up with your mother. Put two and two and two together…"

Sara was relieved when Grissom smiled at her. "You did all that work just to figure me out?"

"Still working on it actually. You're a very complicated puzzle, Grissom. And it doesn't help that you keep so many pieces to yourself."

He shrugged slightly. "I wouldn't think so. But maybe I don't want anyone to figure out the puzzle," he ventured.

"Why?"

"What if they don't like what they see?"

"What if they do?" Sara countered. Grissom didn't answer her, though she honestly hadn't expected him to. They drove in silence again, both lost in their own thoughts.

After a few moments, Grissom pulled into an old neighborhood. While the subdivision Sara's cousins lived in had been relatively new, it was obvious that this neighborhood had been there for years. The houses and well-manicured lawns showed that their owners obviously took care of them. The trees in the yards of some homes were also testament to the age of the neighborhood.

Sara smiled to herself, thinking that this was the kind of place where you would find the Brady Bunch Christmas. Everything seemed so perfect, as if everyone was completely happy. _Why can't Vegas be like this?_

"Here we are," Grissom said idly, breaking into Sara's thoughts. She looked up as he was pulling the SUV up next to the curb in front of a house. He would have parked in the driveway, except for the fact that it was already full with three other cars. He gripped the steering wheel for a moment, studying the vehicles. "Looks like we're the last to arrive," he commented, turning to Sara.

Sara shrugged, taking the initiative to open her door. "Let's not be even later!" she said happily, hopping out of the car. 

Grissom sighed at her enthusiasm. It wasn't even her family, but she didn't seem the least bit nervous. He, on the other hand, almost dreaded seeing his family again. His aunt usually made sure to point out that he was getting older, but still single. How would they react to Sara, even though there was nothing going on between them? 

A tap on the glass made him jump, and he looked up to see Sara standing by the driver's door. She put her hands on her hips playfully. "Come on, Grissom!" she shouted.

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he got out. He shook his head at her, then led the way to the front door. He knocked twice, then took a step back.

A large, grey-haired man threw open the door, his expression of annoyance disappearing as he recognized who the knocker was. "Gil!" he shouted, taking a step forward and pulling Grissom into a crushing hug. Sara smirked at the expression on Grissom's face, then took a step back when he was released and the man turned to her.

He smiled. "And who is this, Gil?"

Grissom grimaced as he rubbed his side. "A friend of mine. Sara Sidle. She was visiting her cousins for Christmas, but they skipped town on her." He turned to Sara. "Sara, this is Uncle Herb."

Sara smiled shyly as Herb shook her hand, his smile bordering on creepy. "Nice to meet you," he was saying. "Not often we find out that Gil has any friends." He looked up at Grissom. "Not often that we even hear from Gil."

Grissom shrugged. "I get busy."

Herb shook his head, stepping aside to let them in. Grissom allowed Sara in first, for which she was glad.

She paused for a moment to study the small house. It was obvious that this house held a lot of memories. The walls were covered with art and old photos, a new photo mixed in now and then. Sara took the time to study these while Grissom was greeted by a woman and a younger man.

One of the pictures was an old black-and white photo of a man in front of a farm. Obviously an ancestor. The next photo looked like a professional. It showed a young couple, with the woman holding a small child. This one wasn't nearly as old as the first, but was still not a recent photo.

She studied the picture closer, seeing that the man seemed to look very familiar. The nose, the chin, the curly hair. Then it hit her. That was Grissom's father. Her eyes darted to the baby. _And this is Grissom_. She smiled despite herself. _Awww…he was so cute!_

"Sara," a voice said, startling her. She whirled around to find Grissom right behind her. He smiled and gestured to the woman and young man. In the next few minutes, Sara was introduced to Aunt Mary Gimble, her son Richard Gimble, and her daughter, Elisa Mitchell. Sara noticed that Gris was the only 'Grissom'; something that Mary seemed to hold against him from the way she said her children's last names.

Grissom introduced Sara to them, and she was scrutinized immediately by three pairs of eyes. She recognized these types of people. The ones who think they're better than everyone else because they married correctly or were born with the 'right' last name. 

Grissom watched as pleasantries were exchanged, then inquired to the whereabouts of his mother. She was in the back yard, according to Aunt Mary, protecting her flowers from the cold. Grissom simply nodded, then disappeared.

Sara managed to get away from Grissom's aunt and cousins, making her way to a window in the living room. She could see the back yard from her position, and she watched as Grissom made his way to a woman leaning over a dying flowerbed. She watched as he touched her shoulder, causing the woman to look up at him. The woman, who Sara figured was Mrs. Grissom, broke out into a smile and threw her arms around Grissom. He hugged her back, and her hands were a flurry of movements when he pulled away. He watched carefully, signing back.

"Odd pair, they are," Sara heard someone say behind her. She turned to see Richard standing close behind her, peering at Grissom and his mother as they 'talked'. "You've got one who couldn't keep her marriage together, and another who can't even get one started."

Sara raised her eyebrows at him. "Sometimes those things are beyond our control."

Richard scoffed, finally looking her in the eye. "You can always keep a marriage together. Divorce looks bad for the family. Besides, she never should have married that Grissom fellow anyhow."

Sara grimaced at him, unable to believe that someone could be so stuck up. And she had only just met him! How many more horrible things was he going to say? "Well, it was her choice as to who she married. Don't you think?"

"She should have thought about what was best for the family. And that Grissom fellow wasn't good for the family. I mean, what did he do? Married her, fathered a son, then abandoned them five years later. What did that marriage accomplish?"

Sara shook her head, stepping towards the back door. As much as she hated to intrude on Grissom and his mother, she _needed_ to get away from this man. "At least we have Gris," she said as she pushed open the door, leaving Richard to try and figure out what she meant. 

Sara studied Grissom's mother as she approached. She was a small woman, with bright blue eyes and grey hair pulled up into a bun. She had a very lively face, and was nothing but smiles as she chatted with her son. She caught sight of Sara, then signed something to Grissom. 

Grissom turned to see Sara standing behind him. He smiled, then held out a hand. Sara took this as an indication for her to approach, which she did. She stepped up beside Grissom, and he put his hand on her back. "Mother, this is Sara," he said. Then he leaned closer to Sara. "She can read lips, so it's okay to talk."

Sara nodded, then held out a hand. But Mrs. Grissom ignored it, pulling Sara into a hug. The sudden movement startled Sara, but she soon relaxed. Then the older woman pulled back, her hands a blur.

"She says that it's great to meet you. And she says she's heard a lot about you from me. And…" Grissom trailed off, his face reddening slightly.

Sara smiled. "What? What else did she say?"

"She said…you're even more beautiful than she was told," Grissom said, glancing down at the ground for a moment.

Sara's smile only widened. "That's sweet." She turned to Mrs. Grissom, who studied her son intently before turning back to Sara. "Thank you for making the gloves and scarf for me," she said, hoping that her lips were readable. "They were very beautiful."

Mrs. Grissom nodded and smiled. "You're welcome," she said slowly, her speech slightly slurred. _One of the side-effects of being deaf_, Sara thought. "Gil asked me to make them. He hoped that you would like them." 

"And I do," Sara replied, giving Grissom a glance. He simply stood behind her, a small smile still on his face as he watched the women.

Grissom's mother began signing again, obviously excited. Sara watched her hands, using what little ASL she had learned. She was able to catch a few words and phrases, but her hands were moving way too fast. Grissom, meanwhile, seemed to fall back into his childhood groove, reading the gestures naturally. He nodded after a moment, smiling as he leaned close to Sara's face.

"She's volunteered you to help in the kitchen, making supper."

Sara's mouth flew open on its own accord. "_Me_? Grissom, I can barely boil an egg! Why can't she get you to help?"

He grinned. "Because the last time I tried to help in the kitchen, I almost made her apple pie explode."

Sara looked at Grissom skeptically. "How do you make a pie explode?"

"The right mixture of baking soda and other household items," he answered with a small smile. 


	4. Chapter Four

****

New chapter! Hope everyone likes it! Special thanks to Grissomgal71 for her continued beta job!

Merry Christmas everyone!

Sara had thought that she would have a miserable time in the kitchen, but she didn't. Grissom's mother, although unable to hear, was able to crack jokes and make the whole cooking experience fun. Sara, with her kitchen skills extending only to the microwave and telephone, was set to work opening cans of vegetables. Grissom, meanwhile, watched her from where he leaned against the doorjamb.

Sara glanced up at him, feeling his gaze. "What?" she asked, still smiling as she poured a can of corn into a pot.

He shrugged, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Nothing. It's just…nice."

"Nice?" she asked, tossing her head to the side to remove a stray piece of hair. "How is this nice?"

He didn't answer, but the smile on his face deepened. He glanced down at the floor briefly to get away from Sara's intense stare, but looked up again a moment later. He glanced at Sara, going over to his mother. He tapped her on the shoulder, then began to sign. Mrs. Grissom watched him carefully, then smiled and patted his shoulder. "Don't worry," she said.

Grissom nodded, and seemed to feel a little better. He smiled at Sara, then went to see what his uncle was shouting about in the next room.

Sara stared at the spot where he had disappeared for a moment, then went over to his mother. She got her attention. "What did he say to you?" she asked slowly.

Mrs. Grissom smiled and squeezed her forearm. "He told me you don't eat meat. So I'll fix something else for you."

Sara tried to say that she didn't have to, but was ignored as the older woman continued her cooking. After a while, there was nothing more Sara could really do, as the rest of the meal preparation was simply to let everything cook through. Mrs. Grissom dismissed Sara with a wave of her hand, and Sara made her way through the house, trying to find Grissom.

She found him in the living room, perched on the arm of the sofa as he watched Richard and Herb play a board game._ Scrabble_, Sara noted. She moved up next to him.

He glanced at her. "I've seen at least fifteen words they both could have made for big points, but neither of them took the chances." 

Sara smiled. "Maybe you should jump in there, Grissom."

He shook his head, returning her smile. "Scrabble is a game of the mind. And I don't like to play against unarmed people." 

She lightly smacked his arm, then moved to stand behind Richard, which made the man nervous. She smirked as she too noticed a big word that he could make, putting him way ahead of Herb in points. But he of course did not see it, instead opting to add an 'S' to the pre-existing 'DOG'. 

She shook her head, trying to stifle a laugh. Then she moved over to where the Christmas tree was set up, gazing at the various decorations. Most of them were simply the traditional glass balls and candy canes, but one near the front caught her eye.

It was a paper snowman, meticulously colored and cut out. She turned it over in her hand, reading the faded writing on the back.

__

Gil Grissom. 2nd Grade. 1963.

Sara smiled to herself. _Grissom's mother kept that for forty years?_

She moved to a china cabinet pushed against the back wall, peering at the small golden tree positioned in the middle. On each branch was a small charm. Upon closer inspection, Sara realized that the charms were actually tiny picture frames, each with a member of the family in it. _Literally, a family tree,_ Sara thought.

Her eyes went down the branches until she found one with an old photograph of Grissom's mother. She went one down, staring at the one with Grissom in it. He had probably been a high school senior in the photo. He was wearing a suit and tie, a small smile on his face as he stared into the camera, the intensity of his gaze apparent.

She glanced down, seeing empty charms below and next to Grissom's. Obviously for a wife and child. _Ones he may never get,_ Sara thought sadly. 

The sudden weight of a hand on her shoulder startled her. She whirled around to see Grissom standing behind her. He held up his hands, as if in surrender. "Whoa. I'm sorry, Sara. I didn't mean to scare you."

"It's all right, Grissom," she said, gathering her wits about her again. "What did you need?"

He jerked a thumb towards the kitchen. "My mother gave me a last minute shopping list for the grocery store down the road. I was wondering if you wanted to come with me." He smiled, casting a meaningful glance at Herb and Richard. "Unless, of course, you'd like to stay here."

Sara practically bounded past him. "Let me get my shoes! I'll meet you outside!"

******It took Sara a moment to locate her shoes, having forgotten where she had taken them off . But she finally made it outside, stepping towards the Denali. 

She paused, seeing that Grissom wasn't in it, nor had he even started the car. He was nowhere in sight. "Grissom!" she called, wondering if he'd finally been abducted and taken back to his home planet. "Over here!" she heard him say. She turned, seeing him hunkered down near a young oak tree to the right of the driveway. She trudged her way over to him. "What are you doing?"

He held up a small beetle in his hands, as if that answered everything. "_Acylpea bituberosa_," he said, placing the beetle back on the ground before standing up. "You ready?"

Sara nodded. "Let's go." She began walking towards the Denali, but soon noticed that Grissom wasn't behind her. She stopped and turned to see him still standing by the tree, a small smile on his face. "Well?"

"We're not taking the truck."

"What are we taking?"

"A walk." He then surprised her by laughing aloud at her expression. "C'mon, Sara. I used to walk to that grocery store all the time as a kid. And I think if I could do it at ten years of age, you can do it now!"

Sara mock-glared at him before joining him on the sidewalk. They walked in silence for a while, both lost in thought. The sun was beginning to set, sending a cool chill through the air. It wasn't terribly cold, but it was enough to make Sara, who had neglected to bring a jacket, shiver.

Grissom noticed her shaking and pulled his jacket off. "Here," he said, handing it to her.

She stared at the 'Forensics' windbreaker for a moment, then shook her head. "No, I'm fine, Grissom. Really." 

He shook the jacket. "Take it or you can walk home to Vegas."

Sara looked up at him, shocked. He sounded so serious, yet a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. She smirked and yanked the jacket from his grasp, slipping into it easily. It was too big for her, but she did notice that it had that certain 'Grissom' smell to it. She smiled and snapped it up all the way. "Thanks," she said quietly.

He only smiled in return, still looking at the path in front of him.

After another few minutes of silence, Sara cleared her throat. "So…what does you mom need?"

"Oh," Grissom said, digging through his pants pockets. His search was futile, so he turned to Sara. "Check the pockets."

Sara did, and pulled out a small piece of notebook paper. "Olive oil, onions, Veggie burgers, sage, rosemary, soy cream, soy sauce, and organic eggs?" she read questioningly, looking up at Grissom.

He shrugged. "She knows you're a vegetarian, and she was making turkey. She didn't want you to feel left out."

Sara suddenly felt like running back to the house and throwing her arms around Grissom's mother. "Awww…That is so sweet of her!"

Grissom smiled. "That's always been her way. If everyone isn't pleased, then she's not." He nodded towards the paper. "Some kind of vegetarian roast."

"Sounds nice," Sara said, smiling up at Grissom.

Grissom only shrugged in return, tucking his hands into his pants pockets as they walked. They didn't talk anymore as they walked, falling into a comfortable silence. Sara was busy gazing at the various Christmas lights that were beginning to come to life on the houses they passed. Grissom was lost in his thoughts, as usual.

They made it to the grocery store, Grissom grabbing a little hand basket as they entered. Then they began to search out the ingredients to the 'roast', with a little difficulty. Organic eggs weren't something the owner of the small store was accustomed to having requested, and he finally admitted that he only had regular eggs. Grissom frowned and turned to Sara.

She smiled, grabbing a carton of eggs and putting it in the basket. "It's alright, Grissom. I'm a vegetarian, but not a vegan. I still eat things like eggs, milk, and cheese."

That seemed to make the trip a little easier, setting Grissom at ease. They were able to find most of the other things without difficulty, though Sara did catch Grissom making a face at the package of Veggie burgers. She laughed, but wouldn't tell him what she found so funny. The truth was, she found the whole experience funny. Grocery shopping with Grissom; no one back in Vegas would ever believe her.

They paid for the food, then began the walk back to the house. The sun had set already, and the chill in the air had worsened, enough so that Grissom began to shiver despite himself. Sara noticed this, and for a moment, felt bad. But she smiled to herself, thinking of doing something that she had secretly wanted to do for years.

She shifted closer to Grissom as they walked, moving the bags in her left hand to her right. Then she threw the other arm around Grissom's shoulders, with the intent of helping him stay warm. He stiffened slightly and his eyes flew up to hers, but he made no move or request to remove her hand. 

She shrugged at his inquisitive glance. "You look cold."

He smiled, then turned his attention back to the path ahead of him. She had been right; he _was _cold. And the feel of her body pressed against his, as little as it really was, spread warmth through his own.

They didn't say another word until they reached the house, after which Grissom excused himself to deliver the groceries to his mother. Sara made her way back into the living room, seeing that Herb and Richard were still involved in a very boring game of Scrabble.

She smiled as a thought occurred to her, and she stood behind Herb. She had decided, that out of those two, she liked him a bit more. She peered at his tiles, then pointed to three of them. "Put those before that word right there," she whispered, pointing to a jumble of tiles on the board.

He glanced at the tiles, then at the board, a smile slowly spreading across his face.

"Cheater!" Richard proclaimed when Herb managed to rack up a good amount of points. Sara just shrugged and moved back over to the Christmas tree. She sank into the chair near it and let herself be mesmerized by the blinking lights. Then something beneath the tree caught her attention. It was a gift, one of many. But this one was very familiar.

It took her a moment to realize that it was the gift she had given Grissom. She frowned, wondering why he hadn't already opened it. She was still staring at it when he suddenly appeared in front of her, holding out a cup of coffee.

He smirked. "You seem to be a little impatient when it comes to presents. I'll bet you were the kind of kid who would sneak into the living room at midnight to see what was there."

Sara raised an eyebrow at him, accepting the coffee. "Not really." She nodded towards his gift. "I was just wondering why you hadn't opened that already."

He looked down at it, casually taking a sip of his coffee. He shook his head. "It's silly."

She grinned. "Tell me."

He gave her a small smile. "As a kid, we would always save the special presents for the family gathering. Anything I bought my mother would be opened only on Christmas Eve with the rest of the family there, whenever they came."

"And you thought my present was special," Sara supplied.

He nodded. "Silly, right?"

She shook her head. "No, not really. It's actually…kind of sweet. That you think my gift was special enough to open with your family."

He smiled. "I'm sweet?" She nodded, and he shook his head, still smiling. "You tell that to anyone at work and they'll have you committed to an institution."

Sara laughed. "Yeah, more than likely." She glanced at him. "But they wouldn't have to if you'd just show them every now and then."

"And what? Lose my reputation as a grumpy robot? Never," he quipped, shaking his head.

******

Mary came in about two hours later, announcing that dinner was finally ready. She also made a point to mention that it would have been done earlier, had Mrs. Grissom not insisted on making some special 'vegetarian roast'. This only seemed to upset Herb, Richard, and Mary. Grissom seemed nonplussed. He just stood up from the couch where he and Sara had been watching as Richard and Herb switched to Monopoly. He held out a hand and helped pull her to her feet before heading off into the kitchen.

When she stepped in a few minutes later, Grissom was pulling plates from the cupboard as his mother carried various dishes to the dining room on the other side of the kitchen. Sara noticed that the others had already made their way to the table, leaving the two Grissoms to do the work. Sara frowned at them, then stepped up next to Grissom, grabbing some smaller plates. 

He turned to her, thanking her silently with a smile. Together, they managed to take most of the work away from Mrs. Grissom, with them carrying the dining plates _and_ the holiday dishes to the table. Mrs. Grissom tried to intervene once, but Grissom had grasped her arm and signed something to her, and after that she sat down at the table with the others.

Finally, Sara and Grissom managed to bring out everything that was needed. They took their seats; Grissom at one head of the table, with his mother and Sara on either side. Richard said a grace, while Grissom deftly translated it. After that, it was a free-for-all. 

Grissom took a moment to simply watch as his aunt, cousins, and uncle practically fought for each dish. He did notice, however, that the vegetarian roast remained untouched. He managed to get some food for himself, then noticed that Sara was on the losing side. She had barely managed to get anything so far.

He reached his arm down the table, scooping up the dish with the roast in it and handing it to her. She smiled, then helped herself.

After the initial rush for food, everyone began to eat. Conversation ensued between Elisa and Sara, with Elisa wondering what kind of work Sara did. That conversation, however, died quickly after Sara said that she was a CSI.

Grissom's mother struck up a conversation with her son, which was awkward due to the fact that both were trying to eat. Sometimes it seemed Grissom would just stick his fork in his mouth as he signed, something Sara found hilarious. Mrs. Grissom signed something to him and he burst out laughing, casting a glance Sara's way.

Sara chose to mostly watch the family as they ate. Herb and Richard got into a little argument over board games. Grissom and his mother were still involved in their silent conversation, while Elisa and her mother talked about their recent vacations.

She smiled to herself, poking at her own food. Christmas with her family hadn't been like this. With her family, the food was set out in the kitchen and everyone ate as they wanted to. There was no sitting around the table. It was nice, even if she did feel like an intruder. She felt as if this was a secret life Grissom had hidden away, one he had chosen to reveal to her. And she felt privileged.


	5. Chapter Five

Sara tossed and turned, unable to get to sleep. She had been given Grissom's old room to sleep in, which actually very much resembled his office. He had jars of critters and creatures lined up on shelves, along with various photographs. Some were of him at science fairs he had attended over the years, while others were more recent photos his mother had put up. 

Grissom said he was going to take the hide-away bed, and had retreated into the living room after dishes had been cleaned and left-overs put away. Mary, Richard, and Elisa were staying at a local hotel, and had left soon after eating.

Feeling a grumble in her stomach, Sara swung her feet over the side of the bed. She wanted to see if any of the pecan pie had survived. 

She made her way into the kitchen, but stopped when she noticed a light on in the living room. She peeked in and saw Grissom sitting on the couch with a blanket around him, focused on a large book. She smiled and made her way into the room, hoping he wouldn't mind the intrusion.

He looked up when she entered. "Hey. What are you doing up?" he asked, turning back to the book.

She shrugged, sinking onto the couch next to him. "Couldn't sleep. Got the munchies." She looked closer at the book, which she had figured to be an entomology text. But it wasn't. It was actually a photo album. "Old times?"

He cocked his head to the side slightly. "Better times, simpler times." 

She smiled sadly. "Yeah." She stared at the pictures for a moment, studying the images of Grissom's mother and father. She was so engrossed in the photos that she didn't realize what Grissom was doing until she felt the blanket around her shoulders. She looked at him quizzically.

He shrugged. "You look cold." 

She smiled again, then peered at the book. He had flipped to a page of more recent photos, more than likely from the late 80's. A few were photos of Grissom at a beach, his arms around a brunette woman. Sara looked up at Gris, seeing that he was far away again.

"Who's she?" Sara dared to ask, risking him getting upset and making her leave.

He glanced down at a photo and sighed. "Ashleigh Morgan. My…girlfriend when I first moved to Vegas."

"What happened between you guys, if you don't mind my asking?"

He looked up at Sara, a sad smile on his face. "She got pregnant by her other boyfriend, then tried to pin child support on me. Luckily, we still had DNA back then, so I was able to disprove her claim. After that…I told her I never wanted to see her again." He sighed again. "Maybe old times weren't always simpler or better." 

Sara could only stare at him for a long moment, working her jaw as she tried to think of something to say. Finally she just settled for tossing her arm around his shoulder and leaning her head against him. She didn't realize until too late that it might be seen as an oddly intimate gesture, but he made no move to make her leave or change her position. Instead, he simply flipped the page in his book.

The next page was full of photos from a rather recent Christmas. A slightly perplexed Grissom was staring at the parts to a child's toy in one of them. Another showed Grissom getting a whipped-cream covered slice of pie shoved in his face by a young woman. Sara couldn't help but get mildly jealous as she peered at them. 

"What are these of?" she asked, deliberately pointing to the one with the woman in it.

Grissom scrunched up his face in thought. "Oh!" he exclaimed after a moment. "These were from a few years ago. Richard got his son one of those skateboard/scooter things. But it came in about fifteen thousand pieces in the box, and Richard was hopeless."

Sara smiled. "Looks like you weren't faring much better."

He gave her a severe look. "At first. But then I found the missing instructions. That made it a whole lot easier."

"I'll bet." She looked up at him again, waiting for him to explain the other photo.

"This was just a picture of the whole family that year. And my mother took that one when Maggie shoved my pie in my face."

"And who's Maggie?" Sara asked innocently.

"Oh, Mary's step-daughter. Real practical joker, she is."

"Oh," Sara said evenly, though she could feel the anxiety rushing out of her like air from a balloon. Then she stopped to think for a moment. Why was she feeling so jealous over pictures of Grissom with old girlfriends and other women? She wasn't involved with him. Was she? She took a moment to examine their position. They were at his mother's house, sitting together on the couch, sharing a blanket. And she had her arms around him. _Sounds like being involved to me!_ she thought. _But we're not._

She shook her head. Only Grissom could make the simplest things complicated without doing a thing. 

******

A clatter in the kitchen slowly pulled Sara out of her peaceful sleep. For a moment, she tried to shut it out, to get just a few more minutes of rest. But the sounds did not stop, and she was now able to pick out the sound of someone humming as well.

She groaned and began to open her eyes, realizing then that she was not in her bed, and she was not lying against a fluffy pillow. Instead, she was curled up on a couch with a blanket thrown about her shoulders. She frowned and sat up, looking around. The photo album was laying neatly on an end-table, and another pillow was neatly placed at the other end of the couch. She glanced over towards the back door, seeing Grissom's form silhouetted in the frame. 

She stood up, still clutching the blanket around her shoulders. "Grissom?"

He didn't turn to her. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" he asked idly.

Sara frowned in confusion. _What is he talking about? Himself?_ She almost found herself saying 'yes, very' in reply to that, but caught herself. "_That's_ a little egotistic, don't you think?"

He turned to face her, a small smile on his face. "Egotistic, how?" He turned to face the door again. "I was talking about the snow. What did you think I was talking about?" he asked, the impish smile still on his face.

Sara bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing as she moved up next to him to peer out of the glass. Sure enough, the ground was covered with a layer of beautiful, white snow. And even more was still coming down. It seemed almost magic, as if the sky had opened up just for Christmas.

As she stared at the snow, she noticed Grissom leaning down closer to her. He was so close, she could feel his breath on her ear. "Close your mouth, Sara," he whispered.

She mock-glared at him and slapped his shoulder. Then she crossed her arms and pretended to pout as she gazed at the snow. He smiled at her, then shuffled off to the kitchen, where Sara could hear Mrs. Grissom moving around. She watched as he disappeared around the corner, still smiling. 

She stared at the snow for a few moments more until she saw Grissom step towards the front door, slipping a pair of shoes on quickly. He glanced at her once before stepping out of the door, still in his boxers and a t-shirt. Sara frowned, then approached the door when Mrs. Grissom opened it and stared out of it.

Sara peered over the older woman's shoulder to watch as Grissom shuffled to the mailbox, arms wrapped around his body. He reached the mailbox, quickly pulling out a few envelopes. Mrs. Grissom watched, then her mouth dropped in alarm. She tapped Sara's shoulder and pointed to her birdfeeder that hung from a tree.

The CSI frowned, then realized what the old woman was trying to say. The snow had blocked up the opening in the birdfeeder, making it so that the few birds brave enough to venture out in the snow were unable to eat.

Sara patted the woman's shoulder, then slipped her feet into a pair of shoes sitting by the door. Judging by the sheer size of the shoes, she figured they were Grissom's. She ignored the way her feet almost slipped out when she walked as she rushed out to the tree. She jumped up and slapped the wooden house a few times, knocking the loose snow from it. She had freed the food and was standing back to inspect her handiwork when something hit her, sending a shocking chill down her back.

She stiffened up, and slowly turned around. Grissom stood behind her, his arms crossed with a smile on his face. "Gil Grissom!" she shouted, feeling the melting snow running down her back, chilling her to the core.

He nodded, then bent down. He began to form another snowball as she watched, never taking his eyes off her. Sara held up a hand. "Grissom, if you do, I swear I'll-"

She was cut off as his next snowball hit her right in the face. Her mouth flew open in shock for a moment, and Grissom laughed aloud. "You're dead!" she shouted, leaning over to collect a handful of snow herself.

She saw Grissom's eyes widen slightly as he saw the ball of snow headed towards him, but he ducked in time to save himself. Still laughing, he rushed out to collect more snow. The snowball fight they waged was short, but intense. At the end of five minutes, both CSI's were soaked, cold, and out of breath. Sara stooped to pick up more snow, but Grissom had had enough. He rushed at her, wrapping his arms about her waist. He lifted her up a bit, then slipped when a shoe came off, sending them both tumbling to the cold ground.

Sara laughed, then shoved one more handful of snow onto Grissom's face. He fought to catch his breath as he laid in the snow, white flecks speckled in his hair. His laughter slowed, but he was still smiling as his mind registered the situation he was in. 

He was lying on his back in the snow, with Sara half-draped over him. His hands were also still resting on her waist. He actually thought about doing something about it, but the fact that his mother was still standing in the doorway stopped him. It also didn't help that a few kids across the road were staring the strange pair of adults who played in the snow in their boxers.

Grissom closed his eyes, then pushed himself to his feet before helping Sara to hers. He avoided looking her in the eyes, brushing snow off her shoulders. "We should go back inside. We'll freeze out here."

Sara nodded, wishing she could think of something to say. But, as usual, her mind went blank. She could only watch as Grissom shuffled back into the house, then followed him. 


	6. Chapter Six

At last! My computer has returned to life! So sorry for the wait. To make up for it, I've made this chapter a bit longer than some of the others. Very fluffy too!  
  
  
  
Sara saw Grissom step out of the bathroom, fully dressed with his hair still wet. He smiled at her, then picked up something off the coffee table. He held them up, and Sara saw that they were envelopes, evidently the ones he had taken out of the mailbox before their little 'battle'. She also noticed that a few drops of water fell from them as he lifted them up.   
  
"Hopefully none of the ink will run," he said, carefully squeezing out some of the water with two fingers. He managed to get most of the wetness out, then set them on the kitchen counter to dry.  
  
Sara smiled. "Sorry about that. I hope they don't get ruined."  
  
He shook his head, an impish smile on his own face. "Don't worry about it. Probably just credit cards and coupons for two free issues of Sports Illustrated. Junk, you know?"  
  
"I think Nick would disagree."  
  
Grissom shrugged. "Oh well." He gave her a typical tilt of the head as he turned the corner, headed back into the living room. She followed, and found him as he was folding up the blanket they'd sat under the previous night. He tossed it over the back of the couch, then rearranged the pillows, making it almost seem as if no one had been there.   
  
Sara turned when she felt someone tap on her shoulder. It was Grissom's mother, gesturing towards the kitchen. Sara frowned, then turned to Grissom, who shrugged.  
  
"She wants you to help with breakfast."  
  
Sara's jaw dropped slightly. "You know, I'm doing more cooking here in a few days than I do at my house in a month."  
  
Grissom smirked, then pointed to the kitchen, where his mother had disappeared around the corner. "You're the cook-in-training. I'm just the errand boy." He shook his head as his mother came out of the kitchen, handing him a piece of paper. He glanced at it, then looked up at Sara, an amused expression on his face. "What did I tell you?"  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"A grocery list."  
  
"But we just went shopping," Sara said, the idea of going to the grocery store more than once a week blowing her mind.  
  
He smiled, then went to grab his coat. "I'll be back in a few. Try not to blow up the kitchen," he said as he slipped out the door.   
  
"I believe that's your department!" Sara shouted after him, smiling. Then she sighed, letting her arms fall to her sides. She turned to look back at the kitchen. "Time to go pretend I know what I'm doing!" she said to herself, then stepped into the kitchen.  
  
Mrs. Grissom was leaning against the counter, focusing on a cookbook. Sara smiled at the look of concentration on her face; Grissom got the same expression when studying his bugs. She leaned against the counter a few feet away from the older woman, but the movement made her look up. Mrs. Grissom gave her a small smile, then shrugged. She put a finger on the page, pointing at the list of ingredients.  
  
"Don't have them," she said. "Gil's gone to the store."  
  
Sara nodded, then tried to take a peek at the cookbook, but, coincidentally, Mrs. Grissom shut it. She smiled at Sara, then stepped out of the kitchen into the living room. Sara sighed, then made her way out into the living room as well.  
  
Mrs. Grissom was staring out of the window, studying her plants. She shook her head, seeing that they were being buried in the 'miracle' snow. She then turned to Sara, seeing the younger woman studying a bookcase filled with old books. Grinning, she stepped over and pulled a large, leather-bound book out. She sat on the couch, giving Sara a pointed stare that told her to sit as well.  
  
Sara did, studying the bland cover of the book intently. The book was obviously quite old, though still in wonderful condition. In one corner, someone had carefully written '1953-1968' in dark ink.  
  
Mrs. Grissom pulled the book open, revealing a photo album, much like the one Sara and Grissom had been looking at the previous night. This page was filled with black and white photos of a young man unknown to Sara, though he looked very familiar. Then it hit her, and she glanced back towards the doorway. That was Grissom's father.  
  
Mrs. Grissom pointed to one photo of the man. "That's William. Gil's father." She stared at the photo a moment, then quickly turned the page. The next few pages were casual photos of young Mrs. Grissom and William Grissom, both smiling and obviously in love. Then came the wedding pictures, the woman looking stunning in her dress.  
  
The next pages, however, were the ones that made Sara smile. Positioned in the center of the page was an 8 X 10 photo of a baby Gil Grissom, staring curiously at the camera.  
  
Sara grinned. "He was so cute!" she said, forgetting that the older woman couldn't hear her. Other pictures showed Grissom as he slept, and in one he was reaching for the camera, a huge smile on his face.  
  
Sara watched as Grissom grew, page by page. In each one, especially family pictures, he seemed very happy. He was always smiling, sitting on his father's shoulders at the beach, opening a train set in front of a Christmas tree, or posing with a baseball bat.  
  
Then they reached a page where he no longer smiled. He seemed about five, simply staring at the camera. Mrs. Grissom sighed. "That was when I started losing my hearing," she said slowly, making a genuine effort to make it understandable.  
  
The next few pages also saw a change in the photos: William Grissom was no longer present. Mrs. Grissom also seemed to fade from the pictures, probably choosing to be behind the camera.  
  
Grissom, on the next page, seemed to jump from age six to twelve. He was no longer the small boy with a happy face. Instead, Sara could see the somber seriousness that she knew all too well developing in his class photo. She glanced at the year stamped in the corner. 1968.   
  
She leaned closer, trying to study it better. His hair a curly mess, he had also begun to adopt the dark wardrobe. But still his eyes stared intently at the camera, almost as if daring the photographer to take any longer than necessary.  
  
Sara shook her head. "He really changed, didn't he?" she asked, waiting until Mrs. Grissom was looking at her to speak.  
  
The older woman nodded. "Yes. When his father left, Gil changed. He smiled less, he stopped begging to go to friend's houses. It was hard for him."  
  
Sara nodded, shifting her eyes to the door. Suddenly, she felt as if she understood the enigmatic Gil Grissom even more. Possibly more than he ever wanted her to.   
  
******  
  
Sara closed her eyes as she sank onto the couch, feeling as if she would burst. Grissom had returned with the breakfast supplies a few minutes after she and Mrs. Grissom had finished looking at the 1978-1982 album. Mrs. Grissom made pancakes with fruit, insisting on piling them high on everyone's plate. Even Grissom was unable to finish his portion, though he made a valiant effort.  
  
Her eyes suddenly shot open, feeling as if she were being watched. And sure enough, she saw Grissom studying her from where he leaned against the doorjamb. "Yeah?" she asked, wishing he weren't so quiet. God knows how long he had been standing there.   
  
He stepped behind the couch, leaning his arms against it. "Richard and Mary will be over soon."  
  
Sara rolled her eyes. "Whoop-de-doo. No offense, Gris, but your cousin is an ass."  
  
Grissom smiled. "Tell me something I don't know." He leaned over, so that he was closer to her and able to see her face. "I was wondering, unless you'd rather sit here with them, if you wanted to come with me."  
  
Sara shifted on the couch, turning to look straight at Grissom. "Where are you going?"  
  
He shrugged. "For a walk."  
  
"Where?"  
  
He smirked. "Around. Does it really matter where? I just thought I'd wander aimlessly around Marina del Rey." He gave her a characteristic head tilt as he turned to walk away. "But, I guess you'd rather sit around here."  
  
Predictably, Sara jumped up from the couch. "Alright! I'll go!" She glanced at the lightly snow-covered ground. "But no more snowballs!"  
  
He held up his hands. "No snowballs. I promise."  
  
"And no shoving snow into clothing."  
  
"Promise. But that goes for you, too."  
  
She grinned. "Darn. I was planning on shoving snow down your pants."   
  
He raised an eyebrow at her, but chose not to comment. Instead, he turned and made his way out of the living room, disappearing around a corner. Sara went into 'her' room, grabbing her boots, jacket, and the butterfly ensemble Grissom had given her.   
  
She put everything on, then stepped outside to wait for Grissom. She kept herself busy by writing in the snow with her boot, though everything came out illegible. Grissom stepped out a few minutes later, looking rather warm in a black leather jacket, his hands shoved in his pockets.   
  
He started down the driveway without a word, Sara falling into the natural groove of walking beside him. Neither of them spoke, instead deciding to take in the surreal scene around them. Kids rushed out of the house to engage in snow wars, much like Grissom and Sara had earlier. A few children attempted to make a snowman, though there wasn't quite enough snow. Parents also took part in the snow activities, though most just sat on the porch, watching as the kids froze themselves.  
  
Sara saw Grissom smile as they passed a playground. "What?" she asked, giving him a small smile in return, encouraging him to open up.  
  
He shrugged. "I used to play there when I was little. Found my first dead animal there too," he said seriously.  
  
Sara raised an eyebrow at him. "Your first dead animal? And that's memorable to you because…?"  
  
He laughed, breaking some of the tension that seemed to have settled over them. "No, it's not that memorable. I was only four, and it was a squirrel. I remember that I kept poking it with a stick until my father came and took me away from it."  
  
Sara smirked, the image of a young Grissom prodding a dead squirrel filling her mind. They fell back into silence again, though this time it wasn't uncomfortable. Suddenly, Grissom felt Sara grasp his arm. "Gris, let's go ice skating!"  
  
He frowned, unsure if the cold had possibly frozen part of her mind. "Sara, we're in California. I know it snowed, but where are we going to find a place to ice skate? On Christmas day, nonetheless."  
  
She smiled, pointing towards what looked like a renovated warehouse. On a large sign were the words "Indoor Ice Rink. Open December 15-January 25". Grissom rolled his eyes and gave Sara an exasperated look.  
  
"Well?" she asked, grinning from ear to ear.  
  
He lifted his hands in surrender. "Figures…Alright! Let's go!"  
  
******  
  
Fifteen minutes later, Grissom and Sara were sitting on a bench inside of the ice rink, pulling on their skates. They were almost the only people there, save for a young couple and an employee.  
  
Sara grimaced as she pulled on her skates. "I hate the color."  
  
Grissom smirked, glancing at her pink skates. "Why? Brings out your eyes."  
  
Sara rolled her eyes, sighing. "Whatever, Grissom. Why couldn't I get a boring color like you?"   
  
Grissom didn't answer, he just gave her a small smile and finished pulling his black skates on. He finally had them tied and stood up shakily, unaccustomed to the blades. He moved his arms in a windmill motion for a moment, finally resorting to grabbing the wall to keep his balance.   
  
Sara laughed, then grasped his arm to help him get to the ice. She stepped onto it easily, having learned to skate during her Harvard years. She did a figure-eight, then stopped in front of Grissom, who had yet to set a blade on the ice.   
  
"Come on, Grissom. It's not that hard."  
  
He gave her a sarcastic smile. "I can barely walk on ice with regular shoes on. What makes you think I can skate? I'm a little too flatfooted for that!"  
  
"Stop whining. You're starting to sound like Nick," she commented, grabbing his arm again. She practically pulled him onto the ice, trying to support him as he wobbled. "Good, now you're on the ice," she said, much as a kindergarten teacher would. "Now we're going to move our feet. Then we can go forward!"  
  
He shook his head, biting his tongue. With her help, he managed to make it halfway around the rink. Then she released him, letting him try on his own. He couldn't go very fast, but he was able to avoid a face-plant.  
  
Sara slowed her pace, staying beside him. She did notice the young couple giving them funny looks, and couldn't really blame them. She knew they must look very funny, with Grissom taking small baby steps on the skates.  
  
"You've never ice skated before?" she asked, watching Grissom as she skated backwards.  
  
He shook his head. "Can't say that I have in recent history. And I don't think running onto a frozen lake really counts."  
  
"A frozen lake? Wait, go back. That sounds like a good story."  
  
He shrugged, even that small movement almost sending him to the floor. "I was at a cousin's house once, up in Colorado. We were playing catch, and he threw the ball a little too far. I didn't realize it was a lake, so I ran out after the ball. Fell flat on my face."  
  
Sara smiled, moving back to skate beside him. He was doing a lot better now, even getting a little form and grace to his skating.   
  
She slipped once, and his hand quickly reached out to help steady her, grasping her wrist. She regained her balance, but he did not release her. Instead, he moved his hand down to hers. She looked down at their entwined hands for a second, then looked ahead of her again, a small smile on her face.  
  
A few minutes and half a lap later, Grissom sighed. "This is nice."  
  
Sara glanced at him from the corner of her eye. He had his usual stoic expression on his face, seeming to be lost in thought. "What?" she finally asked, realizing he would volunteer no more information.   
  
"Just…being here. Skating…with you. No work. Just…you and me."  
  
Sara fought the blush that tried to invade her face, turning to glance at the other couple to hide it from him. Suddenly she heard a scrape, and a large weight pulled down on her hand, bringing her down on the ice.   
  
For the second time that day, she found herself lying on top of Gil Grissom. Evidently, he had finally lost his footing and fallen, taking her down with him. For a moment, he simply lay there, flat on his back, laughing silently.  
  
After a stunned moment, Sara began to laugh with him, turning so she could see his face. Their eyes met, and his laughter slowly stopped, finding himself lost in her eyes. She shifted, half to get off his stomach, and half to get closer to him.  
  
"Hey, are you guys all right?" a voice suddenly said, startling them both.  
  
Sara's head whipped around to peer at whoever had broken their moment. It was the other couple, the man staring at them curiously.  
  
Sara cleared her throat, moving to stand up. "Yeah. We're fine. He," she said, gesturing to Grissom, "has just never been ice skating before."  
  
The man laughed. "I know that feeling!" He looked pointedly at his girl. "She taught me how to skate a few years ago. Can't say I didn't bust my butt a good few times before I got the hang of it."  
  
Grissom groaned as he slowly stood, leaning into the wall. "And what did you do to get back at her?" he asked.  
  
The man shrugged. "Taught her the rules of football and how to throw." He grinned. "Payback sucks."  
  
Grissom looked at Sara, a small smile on his face. "Sure does." 


	7. Chapter Seven

Yes, I'm back with another chapter! Sorry for the delay, I promise it won't happen again!  
  
Thanks so much to Grissomgal71 for her continuing beta job, as well as helping me out when I was stuck!  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
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*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Grissom groaned as his mother's house came into view. Sara glanced at him.   
  
"Something wrong?"  
  
He shrugged. "Well, my back feels a little sore. And to top that off, we get Mr. Wonderful himself over for lunch and dinner," he said, gesturing to the car parked in the driveway. Sara recognized it right away as Richard's.   
  
She groaned as well, moving her hand to grasp Grissom's. He didn't make a move to pull his away, instead he squeezed hers and leaned close to her. "Just pretend that you're really tired, and then retire to your room early."  
  
"That'll never work"  
  
He shrugged. "Never hurts to try."  
  
They stepped inside of the front door, pausing to remove their shoes and snow paraphernalia. Then they moved into the living room, where Richard was sitting comfortably, reading a newspaper. He nodded at Grissom when the criminalist stepped into view, then just glanced at Sara.  
  
Grissom sank down onto the couch, sighing comfortably. Sara plopped down beside him, sitting a little closer than a colleague would. Richard noticed the transition and arched an eyebrow. He thought about saying something, but decided to bite his tongue. Instead, he simply turned the page, pretending to be interested in the sports section.   
  
Sara noticed that Grissom was eyeballing her gift, still under the tree. She smiled and leaned closer to his ear. "It's Christmas, you know."  
  
"Yes, I know," he said, deadpan.   
  
She rolled her eyes and shook her head. "That means you can open it without breaking family tradition."  
  
"My mother isn't here."  
  
"Grissom!" she said, raising her voice. Richard glanced over the paper at them, wondering if they were going to get into an argument. But, to his slight disappointment, Grissom smiled in return. Then he leaned forward and lifted up the box from beneath the tree.   
  
He shook it a few times, sending Sara a sly grin. She laughed. "I padded the sides. You know, so stuff wouldn't break. And also so you couldn't shake it to see what it was!"   
  
He shook his head, then carefully undid the ribbon. "You really didn't have to get me anything, Sara."  
  
She shrugged. "I felt like getting it. And you did give me something." Though I do think I got a little carried away.I wasn't really planning on giving it to him, I think. And it was true. When she had bought Grissom's Christmas gift, a part of her thought she would panic and bring it back.  
  
She watched as he put the ribbon onto the table. She sighed. "Could you take any longer? Please tell me you're not the kind of guy who saves wrapping paper."  
  
He smirked, then made a point by ripping the paper down a side. He finished tearing up the paper, then pried the tape from the sides of the cardboard box. When he was finally able to open the box, he found it lined, top, bottom and sides, with light foam. He shook his head, then pulled the top part of the foam out.  
  
He grinned from ear to ear as he pulled out the first thing. In a small glass case, much like the ones he kept his butterflies in, were eight different types of cockroaches. Another glass case below that held another eight species. He turned to her, pointing at one of the cockroaches. "I have one of these."  
  
She made a face. "And I'm pretty sure I have at least a few of those in my kitchen."   
  
He gave her a small smile, then glanced inside the box again, noticing that it still wasn't empty. He reached down and pulled out cloth. After unfolding it, he saw that it was a dark blue, Oxford-style dress shirt.  
  
She shrugged when he turned back to her. "I thought.it would bring out your eyes."  
  
He smiled softly, putting a hand on her knee. "Thank you, Sara."  
  
She smiled lightly. "You're welcome, Gris. I mean, I know it's nothing compared to what you gave me..."  
  
She stopped speaking when he put a hand under her chin, forcing her to look him in the eyes. "It's wonderful," he said softly, a tiny smile on his face.   
  
******  
  
The rest of the afternoon was spent in the company of Grissom's aunt and cousins. Richard took the time to tell his mother all about his latest venture into the stock market, during which Sara caught Grissom dozing off. She smiled and tried to keep from laughing, gently jabbing him in the ribs to wake him up. Grissom's eyes opened with a snap, and he stared at her, wide-eyed, for a moment.  
  
Elisa then took over the conversation, speaking about her new boyfriend. It seemed evident to Sara that Elisa was the kind of woman who had a new boyfriend every month, falling in love every time. Apparently, this month's model was named Paul, and he couldn't come due to an 'important work meeting' of some kind. Sara fought to hide a smirk, then failed when she saw the perplexed look on Grissom's face. Elisa stopped talking immediately, fixing the both of them with an angry gaze.   
  
Grissom glanced down at the floor for a moment, then stood up and made his way to the back door. He looked briefly at Sara before stepping out. For a moment, she simply stared at the spot where he had disappeared, then looked back towards Grissom's cousins and aunt. Listening to a minute more of their conversation, she stood up and made her way out of the door as well.   
  
She stepped out into the dark backyard, struggling to see anything in the night. Finally, her eyes adjusted, but she still couldn't spot Grissom anywhere. She frowned, wondering where he had gone. "Gris?" she called, taking a few steps into the yard.   
  
Suddenly, about halfway across the yard, she felt a hand grasp her arm and pull her back a bit. She whirled around to see Grissom standing behind her. "Jesus, Grissom! What are you doing?"   
  
He gestured to where she had been walking with a tip of his head. "You were about two feet from falling into my mother's pond."   
  
Glad that the dark hid the blush crawling up her face, Sara turned and peered intensely at where she had been headed. And sure enough, she could see the dim moonlight reflecting off the water. She absently pushed a strand of hair from her face as she turned back to Grissom. "Sorry...I mean...thanks."  
  
He smiled, though she could barely see it in the sparse light. "No problem. Besides, I'd have to explain to the guys back in Vegas how you froze to death on my watch." Then he led her through the dark, coming to a stop at the edge of the small pond. Releasing her, he sank down and settled onto the grass, not caring if the melting snow saturated his clothes. Sara cast an unsure glance at the wet ground before settling down next to him.   
  
She turned to him, studying his features in the dim light. He was staring at the water, absently gathering rocks and tossing them into it. She grinned and put a hand on his knee. "Something wrong, Gris?"  
  
He looked up at her, a curious expression on his face. "No. Why?"  
  
"You just seem...distant. Again."  
  
He smiled, looking down at the water again. "Sorry. I was just thinking."  
  
"Would you like to share with the rest of us?"  
  
"I was just thinking that this was one of the best Christmases I've had in years." He paused for a moment, then surprised her by leaning over and kissing her cheek. "Thank you," he whispered. Then he stood up and walked back into the house, making sure to turn on the back lights for her as he stepped through the door.   
  
****** 


	8. Chapter Eight

******  
  
Sara awoke the next morning to the sound of pots banging in the kitchen. Then she heard something wet splat on the ground and Grissom groan. "Damn," she heard him say softly, though loud enough to carry into her room. *No...not my room*, she thought to herself, *his room*. She sat up, getting herself tangled up in the blankets. She growled and tried to kick them off, but only succeeded in tangling herself up further. Finally, she lay her head back against the pillow, groaning. She took a moment to calm down, then worked her way out of the blankets.   
  
She smiled in triumph, then went over to her suitcase and pulled out some clothes. She changed out of her pajamas quickly, then peered out of the door. She couldn't see the kitchen from where she was, and the sounds had stopped. Her curiosity getting the best of her, she stepped out of the room and headed towards the kitchen.  
  
She found Grissom kneeling down on the floor, staring intently into a cupboard. She grinned and leaned against the wall. "Find something interesting?"  
  
He jumped, banging his head into the top of the shelf. He cursed, then looked up at her slowly, a small smirk on his face. Then he held up the bag he was holding--chocolate chips.  
  
Sara raised an eyebrow. "And you have chocolate chips because...?"  
  
"Pancakes."   
  
"Pancakes?"  
  
His smirk widened as he pulled a few more items out of the cupboard and stood up. "Yeah, you know. Little flat cakes you eat with butter and syrup. We had them yesterday?"   
  
She rolled her eyes. "Thank you, Grissom, for explaining that to me. What would I have done without you?" He shrugged, but offered no reply. Instead, he began pulling out a few bowls as he continued to stare at the boxes. Her curiosity getting the best of her, she moved up behind him to peer at the boxes as well, standing a little closer than necessary. "Flour, sugar, blueberries."  
  
"All the crucial elements to a pancake breakfast," he told her, with the expression he usually got when explaining stuff to the younger CSI's. "Do me a favor? Get the eggs and milk out of the fridge."  
  
"Yes, sir," she said mockingly, turning to the fridge to do as he said. She pulled out the ingredients, then set them on the counter, watching him as he measured out the precise amount of flour. He mixed it in with the concoction of sugar, eggs, and baking soda, then frowned. He turned back to look at the bag of flour.   
  
"Not enough," he said, looking down at the tan mess in the bowl. "Must be a typo in the recipe." He reached for the bag of flour, at the exact same time as Sara. The force of both their hands ramming into the bag caused a cloud of it to shoot into the air. And at such a close proximity, it got all over them. After the coughing subsided, and the cloud had settled, Sara looked up at Gris and laughed. The flour had settled into his hair, making it look almost completely white. She knew that she must not look much better, but the expression on Grissom's face was priceless.   
  
Grissom raised an eyebrow at her laughter, then got a deviant glint in his eye as he put his hand into the bag of flour, lifting out a bit. Sara chewed on the inside of her cheek nervously, giving him a threatening glance. "You wouldn't..."  
  
He raised his hand a bit more, an evil smirk appearing on his lips. "Wouldn't I?"  
  
Sara raised an eyebrow of her own, reaching towards the pancake batter. "You'd better not..."   
  
He laughed aloud, then turned to finish making breakfast. Unfortunately, Sara mistook his movement as him preparing to toss the flour. In an instant, she had scooped up a small handful of pancake batter and thrown it, splatting the mixture against the back of Grissom's shirt. He flinched, then slowly turned to her, his eyes wide. Sara clamped her hands to her mouth when she realized what she had done.  
  
"Gris...I'm so sorry!" She moved forward to try and remove the goop, and he didn't make any movement to stop her. She reached up and began to swipe the gunk off his shirt, then found herself with a face full of flour. She coughed, then looked up at Grissom in shock. He had an evil smirk on his face again, and his hand was still hovering above his shoulder, where he had tossed the flour.  
  
"Grissom!" she shouted, scooping up her own handful of flour and shoving it into his face. After that, pandemonium broke loose. Both Grissom and Sara scrambled to find something else to hit the other with, abandoning the flour for the more interesting pancake batter. Within moments, both CSI's and kitchen were covered in flour, pancake batter, and various other ingredients. Sara went for the rest of the pancake batter, but Grissom grabbed her from behind, wrapping his arms around hers to keep her from moving.  
  
She struggled for a moment, then froze when she realized that Grissom was making no attempt to move. He was just standing behind her, his arms wrapped around her. If they hadn't been covered with food, she might have found it romantic. She turned her head, seeing that he was studying her intensely, his expression unreadable. It quickly became one of his cryptic smiles, the ones that drove her crazy.   
  
Suddenly, the sound of something falling behind them caught their attention. Grissom released Sara and they both whirled around, seeing a wide-eyed Mrs. Grissom standing in the doorway, studying the mess that had been her kitchen. She looked up at her son. "Gil!" she cried, then began signing in a frenzy. Even Grissom found it a little difficult to decipher everything she was signing, but he got the general idea.  
  
He stepped up to her, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry, Mother. We'll clean it up."   
  
Mrs. Grissom shook her head furiously, still signing a mile a minute. Grissom just nodded to her, signing back now and again. Finally, Mrs. Grissom sent one exasperated glance Sara's way before stepping out of the kitchen. When Grissom turned back to Sara, he looked like he was trying to decide whether to smile or be stern. Finally, the smile won, and he began laughing.  
  
Sara watched him for a moment as if he had finally lost his mind before joining in his laughter. "What did she say?"  
  
He shook his head, still smiling. "She asked me just how old I thought I was. Then she went on this ramble on how I manage to do something stupid every time I set foot in her kitchen."  
  
"Did you tell that it was partially my fault?"  
  
"Partially?" he asked, his eyebrows cocked playfully. "This whole thing was your fault!" He laughed, then shook his head. "Nah...I told her we'd clean it up." He bent down and fished through the cupboards under the sink, then surprised Sara by throwing a rag at her face, where it stuck comically. "Just work it like a crime scene, Sara. One bit at a time."  
  
She rolled her eyes at him, then went on to her task of cleaning up the batter-splattered kitchen.  
  
******  
  
Grissom was sitting on the couch later that day reading a book. They'd spent about three hours cleaning up the mess in the kitchen, and his mother would come in from time to time, pointing out some small bit they'd missed. After they'd had it cleaned enough to avoid the wrath of Grissom's mother, Sara had excused herself to shower and change out of her clothes. Grissom had rinsed the batter out of his hair in the kitchen sink, then pulled on an old UNLV sweatshirt he'd left at his mother's years before.   
  
He ran a hand through his still-damp hair, trying to clear his thoughts. He was trying to read a Sherlock Holmes book, but his thoughts kept drifting to Sara. It seemed that, for years, he had been fighting a losing battle. He'd tried to act like he wasn't interested, even trying toconvince himself that he wasn't interested, that they were only friends. But who was he kidding? He hadn't thought of her as 'just a friend' in a long time.   
  
He sighed and shook his head, turning back to the book, but barely seeing the words at all. He was really just turning pages after a set amount of time. A few minutes later, this monotonous activity was interrupted when Sara came out of the bathroom, plopping next to him on the couch. And he did notice she was sitting much closer to him than one would to a friend. What did that mean? He scrunched his face up in thought.  
  
Sara grinned at the expression on Grissom's face. Leaning her face closer to his, under the pretext of reading the page, she asked, "What'cha reading?"  
  
Grissom's eyes widened a bit when he realized he wasn't even sure which story he was on anymore. Hoping she wouldn't notice, he peered at the top of the page before answering. "'Adventure of the Speckled Band'," he said matter-of-factly.  
  
"Hmm..." she said, not moving her face away from his. "I don't think I've read that one. What's it about?"  
  
"Murder," he said, the corner of his mouth rising in a small grin.  
  
Sara rolled her eyes. "Well...go figure! Really, Gris...what's that one about?"  
  
He sighed, pretending to be annoyed. He was suddenly glad that he'd already read the story, or else he would have had to confess that he hadn't digested a thing he'd read in the last half-hour. "A woman is killed by a snake. End of story."  
  
Sara smacked his arm lightly. "Liar." He smirked, cocking his head slightly to the side. Sara glanced around the house. "Hey, Gris...where's your mom?"  
  
He glanced up from the page. "She went to the gallery. She does that when she gets upset."  
  
"Did we really make her that mad?" Sara asked fearfully.  
  
Grissom smiled. "Don't worry. Her kitchen is like her sanctuary. She doesn't like anyone messing it up." He shrugged. "She'll be happy as a kid in a candy store when she comes home."  
  
Sara pursed her lips and nodded, still seeming a little apprehensive. "Right..."   
  
"Sara, don't worry about it. My mother is a very upbeat kind of person. She's had her share of troubles, but she doesn't let them get to her. A little mess in her kitchen is not going to break her heart."  
  
Sara looked up at him curiously. "What troubles has she had? If you don't mind my asking..."  
  
Grissom thought for a moment. There were so many things he could tell Sara...this was his chance to open up a bit. "Well...her hearing for one thing. Me for another and my father leaving us."  
  
"Your father left you guys? Why?"  
  
Grissom shrugged. "I don't know. I guess he couldn't deal with the thought of being responsible for a family. He just up and left one day. And to tell you the truth, I don't miss him."  
  
Sara gave him a smile, then put an arm around his shoulders, giving him a slight hug. "Sorry, Grissom."   
  
Grissom smirked. "Nothing to be sorry about. I'm not sorry about it, so why should you be?"  
  
Sara smiled again, finally showing Grissom the full, gap-toothed smile that he had missed. "Right." Grissom grinned back, then turned his attention to his book, deciding to actually read the words. Sara watched him for a moment, then snatched the book right out of his hands, laughing at the wide-eyed expression he gave her.  
  
"What?" she asked, scooting over and settling into the corner of the couch, and opening the book.  
  
He raised an eyebrow, unsure if he even wanted to try and figure her out.   
  
"I'm reading. You wouldn't tell me about the story, so I'm going to find out on my own."  
  
"Sara..." he warned, shifting on the couch. She was acting very...childish. In fact, they both were. It seemed just being around her away from work made him feel young again. It was exhilarating. He grinned, then snatched his arm out, trying to grab the book from her. She saw it coming and jerked the novel down, causing him to miss by a mere inch. She laughed aloud, and that was it for him.  
  
He leapt up from his sitting position, diving for the book. It was only after a moment of good-natured scuffling that he realized the position he was in. Sara was still in the corner of the couch, though she'd moved farther down, so that she was almost lying down. Grissom, on the other hand, was practically on top of her, one hand on the book she held in a death grip. He didn't move, shifting his eyes to her face, which was a only inch or two away.  
  
She noticed that he had stopped struggling for the book and turned to him, also seeming surprised at their position. Her eyes met Grissom's and froze there. For a long moment, neither of them moved. Then Grissom's eyes shifted to take in the rest of her face before recapturing her eyes. Slowly, he moved closer to her, closing the distance between them and capturing her mouth with his.  
  
Time, for Sara, seemed to stand still, and she lost herself in the moment. It came as a shock, feeling Grissom's lips on hers, but she soon felt herself returning the kiss. He pulled back after a moment, his eyes closed. When he finally opened them, she saw that they were filled with fear.   
  
"Sara..." he began to say, shifting to move off her. "I'm sorry...I didn't mean to...I shouldn't have done that." He pushed away, moving back to his side of the couch and burying his face in his hands.   
  
Sara studied him for a moment, trying to figure out the cause of his sudden change in demeanor. She scooted closer to him, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Grissom," she said, her voice demanding that he look at her. He did, and she smiled. "I'm not sorry. Why should you be?"   
  
He gazed at her for a moment, realizing that she wasn't angry or offended at what he had done, however inappropriate he believed it had been. Instead she seemed...relieved. "I...I'm not sorry."  
  
"Good," she said, smiling before wrapping her arms around him and nestling her head in the crook of his neck. 


	9. Chapter Nine

Well...here it is (finally!)! A new chapter! Sorry for the delay. You can blame LSU, 'real life', and writer's block for the time interval. But I promise, next time it won't be so long!  
  
I have to send a special thanks to my good friend and beta Grissomgal71! Not only did she correct the mistakes I made, she also kept egging me on to finish the chapter! So, thanks Jamie!  
  
**************  
  
Grissom looked up when he felt someone tap his shoulder. He was helping his mother take down the Christmas tree, a small family tradition that he tried to keep. He was in the middle of taking down a delicate crystal angel, which he carefully held in his hand as he turned.  
  
It was Sara. She smiled at him, then pointed to the cookbook she held. "This stuff sounds good, but I don't think I could make it." Sara had volunteered to make dinner for them all, wanting to give Mrs. Grissom a break. But after looking at the cookbooks on the shelves, she wasn't sure if she could make the dishes. She could cook, but was well out of practice.   
  
Grissom grinned at her, taking the cookbook from her hands gently. "Don't worry about it, Sara. I can make something."  
  
Sara raised an eyebrow. "You can cook?"  
  
Grissom shook his head. "Yes, Sara. I can cook. Despite being banned from the kitchen at a young age, I managed to pick up a few things. I mean, somebody's got to cook for me. And since I'm always alone..." He let the sentence hang, leaving her to finish it in her thoughts.   
  
She nodded. "Sure. If you want to. And if your mother will let you!" She gave him another smile, then disappeared back into the kitchen.  
  
Grissom shook his head in amusement, then turned his attention to the small angel he still held in his hands. He studied it for a long moment, remembering when his mother had bought it. "Long time ago," he said softly, seeing the nine-year-old phantom of himself staring at the angel in wonder. He had not been allowed to touch it then, for fear that it might break. It had seemed so beautiful then, and had not lost any of its glory.  
  
That memory faded away to a more recent one. There was another angel in his life, a beautiful young student in the back of a lecture hall. A student who listened intently to his every word while others nodded off. And she too had been untouchable, though not because she was too fragile, but because it was he who had become the fragile one.  
  
He looked towards the door where Sara had disappeared. Had he finally gotten over his weakness? Or would he withdraw as soon as they returned to Vegas, possibly losing Sara forever?   
  
He was suddenly aware of his mother staring at him, an odd expression on her face. She noticed that he had turned to her and began to sign.  
  
'Something wrong, Gil?'  
  
He shook his head. 'Just thinking.'  
  
She smiled knowingly, glancing towards the kitchen. 'She's a pretty one.'  
  
He cocked his head to the side, giving her a small grin. 'She is.'  
  
'She's nice, too.'  
  
Grissom just nodded.  
  
Mrs. Grissom put a hand on his shoulder. 'I'm glad you found someone,' she signed after giving his shoulder a pat. 'It's good to see you happy.'  
  
Grissom stared for a moment. His mother had always seemed to have some kind of 'radar' about the women that he brought into his life. If his mother didn't seem to approve of one, the relationship would usually end quickly, though Mrs. Grissom didn't do a thing. Ashleigh Morgan was a great example. When Gil had brought her home to meet his mother, the older woman had seemed rather cold. She later confided to her son that the woman was trouble. Sure enough, six months later, they had gone their separate ways, Ashleigh pregnant with another man's child. But his mother seemed to approve of Sara, something that rarely ever happened.   
  
Mrs. Grissom laughed at her son's expression after a moment. 'I really am glad that you found her. You two seem great together.' She glanced up at the kitchen. 'Why don't you two go somewhere and eat? It's a shame to have so many great restaurants nearby and not take advantage of them.'  
  
'You don't want to come?'  
  
She shook her head, gesturing towards Sara, who had just stepped out of the kitchen. 'No. I think you should spend some time together, outside of the house, before you have to go back to Vegas.'  
  
"Gris? What's up?" Sara asked, moving next to him. She'd seen his slightly perplexed expression from the door jamb. She crouched down next to him, studying his expression.   
  
He turned to her, giving his mother one last glance. Clearing his throat, he desperately hoped his voice wasn't shaky. "Do you want to go out and get something to eat?"  
  
Sara's eyes went from Grissom to his mother and back again. "Sure. Where did you guys want to go?"  
  
"Actually..." Grissom cleared his throat again, "my mother doesn't really want to go. I was wondering if...you and I could go."  
  
For a long moment, Sara simply stared at Grissom. Finally, to Grissom's great relief, her face broke out into a smile. "Sure! That would be great," she said, laying a hand on his shoulder and giving it a squeeze. She could see that he was more than a little nervous at the prospect of taking her out on a 'date'. He seemed to still be wigged out at the fact that he was the supervisor and she an 'underling', as she had once heard Ecklie put it.  
  
Grissom nodded, a smile on his own face, then stood up. He signed something to his mother, then stepped out of the room, leaving Sara very confused. She decided to pick up where Grissom had left off with the Christmas ornaments, helping Mrs. Grissom until all of the decorations were safely in their boxes. Grissom's mother decided to retire to her room for a nap, leaving Sara alone and wondering where Grissom had gone to.  
  
She wandered about the house, finally finding him in a back room filled with old books and a desk. He had taken his laptop out of his bag, connected it to the phone line, and was now pecking away on the keyboard with a cell phone next to his ear. She leaned against the door jamb, waiting until he was finished with his conversation.  
  
He was oblivious to her presence, scribbling notes onto a notepad. "Yes...Uh huh...Yeah. Do you have any vegetarian dishes? You do? How many? A whole menu? Great." He paused to jot down something. "Do you take reservations or is it a walk-in? Reservations? Okay. Dress code? Oh..." Sara heard the tone of his voice change. Instead of being slightly optimistic, now he seemed a little disappointed. "Uh huh...Could you put down a reservation for me, but don't make it 'official' yet. Yeah, I need to see if the dress code is okay. Gil Grissom." She listened as he spelt out his last name, making sure the person on the other end didn't keep it as 'Grisham', as they had evidently put. He thanked them, hung up, then turned around. He seemed startled to see Sara right behind him, but managed to keep most of his composure.  
  
"Sara. I called one of the restaurants in the area. It...uh...has some really good food."  
  
"I sense a 'but' coming," she said, a small smile on her face.  
  
He gave her a half-grin. "Yeah. They have a dress code. Not quite 'tux and gown', but it is a bit upscale dress." He made a face. "Does that make sense to you?"  
  
"Yeah, Gris. It makes perfect sense to me."  
  
"So..." Grissom made a face, as if fighting with himself over what to say. "If you don't have..."  
  
"Gris, I was planning to be spending this weekend lounging with my cousins. We'd probably never get out of our pajamas."  
  
He nodded. "I understand. We could go somewhere else." He reached to pick up the phone again, but Sara put her hand on top of his.  
  
"But that doesn't mean that I can't get something to wear." She laughed at his confused expression. "Come on, Gris. This is a town filled with clothing stores. Don't you think I could find a nice dress by tonight?"  
  
Grissom worked his mouth, opening and shutting it a few times though no words came out.   
  
Sara laughed again. "What's wrong, Grissom?"  
  
He shook his head slightly. "Of all of the things I thought I would do, taking you shopping for a dress was not one of them. I...I've never been...dress shopping before."   
  
"It's not that hard. Besides, if you want, you could just sit in the car and wait for me."   
  
******  
  
Two hours later, Grissom found himself in yet another clothing store. Sara would try on a whole armful of dresses, but wouldn't allow him to see her in them. She said she wanted it to be a surprise.  
  
Grissom was bored stiff. He sat in a chair next to another man, who was also waiting for his woman to finish trying on clothes. Grissom sighed, leaning back in his chair and lacing his fingers behind his head. He closed his eyes, thinking maybe he could catch a small nap.  
  
"Waitin' on the wife?" a voice said, cutting into the silence.  
  
Grissom opened his eyes and searched for the source, finding that it had come from the man next to him. He glanced at him quickly, then closed his eyes again. "Not my wife."  
  
"Girlfriend? Me too. She's been dragging me to just about every boutique in the city. No special occasion; she just wants to show off the pounds she lost. Not that I mind, of course."  
  
Grissom gave him a fake smile. "Wonderful."   
  
The guy just didn't seem to be able to take a hint. That, or he was desperate for conversation that didn't involve the phrase 'does this make me look fat?' "So, what's the special occasion for you guys? I mean, day after Christmas, must be something."  
  
"We're going to dinner," Grissom said, sympathizing with the guy, but not wanting to give away too much about himself.   
  
"Dinner? That's it? Well, I mean...You guys goin' someplace special?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Anniversary?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Birthday?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Forgot to get her a Christmas present?"  
  
"No!" Grissom said, almost yelling. He sat up in his chair, fixing the guy with a piercing stare. "It's our first date."   
  
"Oh," the man said, his mouth frozen in an 'O'. Then he made a face. "First date?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
The man finally seemed to realize that Grissom wasn't the chatty type and kept to himself. He studied the floor for a long time before his girlfriend came out, empty-handed. They got into a small spat, which ended with him walking after her, apologizing. Grissom allowed a small grin to cross his face, sinking down in the chair to get more comfortable.   
  
He waited just a few more minutes until he saw Sara step away from the sales woman, a black clothing bag in her arms. He couldn't help but study it for a moment before approaching her. "Found one?" he asked nonchalantly.  
  
She smiled. "Sure did. Took me long enough, didn't it?"  
  
"You said it, not me," he replied, earning himself a slap on the arm.   
  
*******  
  
Grissom frowned at his reflection, sure that he didn't remember having that many grey hairs the last time he'd looked in the mirror. But then he couldn't really remember the last time he'd taken a good look at himself in the mirror. He ran a hand over his beard, wondering for the millionth time whether he should shave it off or not. He liked it, and Sara seemed to like it as well, so that helped make up his mind. He trimmed it up a bit, then gazed at himself in the mirror.  
  
He ran a hand through his hair, unsure if he should even attempt to do something with it. In his opinion, his hair looked best when left to its own devices. Brushing or styling it always ended up making him uncomfortable. So, like a typical guy, he didn't mess with his hair. He opened up the medicine cabinet, pulling out a small glass bottle. He studied it for a moment, then glanced up at the mirror. Once again, he found himself struggling to remember something. This time, he was trying to figure out the last time he'd worn aftershave.   
  
Not too long afterwards, he stepped out of the bathroom, tying his tie as he walked. He'd decided to wear the shirt Sara had given him for Christmas, along with a simple tie. His mother had insisted upon ironing his dress pants and jacket, so they felt a little stiff as he walked. He went out into the living room, where he sank down onto the couch to tie on his shoes. He wondered briefly how long it would take Sara to get ready, then forced it out of his mind. He'd always heard that it took women forever to get ready for anything, but Sara wasn't like most women.   
  
He smiled. Plus, in his opinion, she didn't really need to dress up to be beautiful. She always was.   
  
He was straightening his tie for what must have been the hundredth time when someone cleared their throat behind him. He turned towards the noise, then fought to keep his mouth from falling open.  
  
Sara stood in the doorway, a small, shy smile on her face. Dressed in a long black gown with her hair pulled up, she looked stunning. The dress itself was very simple, yet seemed only to make the woman wearing it shine even more. It fit snugly in all of the right places, leaving Grissom speechless.  
  
"Sara...you..." He shook his head, abandoning his tie, and stepped over to her, taking one of her hands in his. "You look great. I can't even begin to tell you."  
  
Her smile widened. "Thanks. So do you." He smiled back at her, lowering his head to hide the blush that started to creep up on him. Damn! Why do I always end up acting like the freshman who's just been told by a senior that he was cute? he thought to himself. Sara pulled her hand away from his, then lifted both to his neck. It took him a moment, then he realized that Sara was straightening the tie he had been messing with for the past half hour.   
  
He grinned. "Thanks." He held out an arm. "Shall we?"  
  
Sara nodded and stuck her arm through his, fighting back a laugh at how ridiculous they probably looked. Walking perfectly next to Grissom, she allowed him to lead her outside and to the SUV, where he continued to surprise her by opening her door for her. She gave him a quick 'thank you' before sliding into the large vehicle. He joined her a moment later, unconsciously reaching for his tie again.  
  
"Gris," she warned. He looked at her with wide eyes. "Leave it alone. It's fine."  
  
He gave her a small smile. "Nervous habit."   
  
Sara didn't reply, just returned the smile and sat back in the seat. Truth be told, she was just as nervous as Grissom. She was just hiding it a bit better than he was.  
  
The ride into town was spent in silence, neither one knowing quite what to say. It wasn't uncomfortable, just silent. When they finally reached the restaurant, they were quickly escorted to their table, situated nicely in the center of the room with a clear view of the stage, which was empty at the moment. They settled into their seats, thanked the waiter, then waited for the menus.  
  
Sara glanced all around the large, spacious room. She'd never be in a place this elegant before, unless you counted crime scene visits. And she could also see people seated at tables who probably made at least five times what she did, all decked out in jewels and diamonds. In one corner, a young woman was showing off what seemed to be her engagement ring, a huge lug of a diamond on a small gold band. Sara's eyes widened at the sight, and she turned back to Grissom quickly.   
  
He had a small grin on his face as he looked around. "I've never been here before. But they had good reviews, so I thought we could try it. They have a vegetarian menu," he added quickly.  
  
She nodded, then turned away as the waiter came back with their menus.  
  
******  
  
Grissom yawned widely as he pulled the SUV back into the driveway. Dinner, in his opinion, had been a great success. They'd been able to talk to each other easily, and Grissom even allowed a little personal information to work its way out.  
  
They got out of the car in silence and stepped up to the front door. Grissom unlocked it, then held it open for Sara to step through. She did, and he closed it behind them, making sure to lock it. They walked through the house, dark except for one lamp; Mrs. Grissom had been asleep for hours already. Feeling a little awkward about coming back to the same house, Grissom wasn't quite sure how to end the night. He walked with her to 'her' room, hanging back a bit as she reached for the door knob.  
  
She turned around, bringing her hands up to his chest. "This is a little odd. But...if we were back in Vegas and you were dropping me off, I'd tell you that I had a great time tonight."  
  
Grissom gave her the smallest of smiles. "And I'd tell you that I did too." He leaned in closer to her, kissing her cheek. But he didn't pull away, and didn't hesitate to move to her lips when she turned her head a bit. When they finally pulled apart, Grissom raised his eyebrows. "Wow."   
  
"Tell me about it," Sara said, her eyes wide.  
  
He ran his tongue over his lips, unwilling to separate from her, yet knowing that it was late. "I guess this would be the part where I say goodnight."  
  
Sara smiled. "Yeah, it would be." She stared at the floor for a moment, fighting with herself internally. "And this would be when I would ask you if you wanted to come up."  
  
Grissom stared at her blankly for a moment, waiting for the words to sink in. "Sara..."  
  
"I know. This is when you say 'I really shouldn't' and I say 'please'. Then you say 'are you sure' and I say 'yes'," she said quickly. She looked up at him, meeting his eyes. "So what do you say?"  
  
He grinned, leaning in to capture her lips again. 


	10. Chapter Ten

**Well, here it is (finally!). The final chapter to "Candycanes and Cockroaches". I'm sorry it has taken so long, I really am! I hope it's worth the wait that you've had.  
  
I need to once again thank Grissomgal71. For being a friend, a beta, and a parole officer, making sure I keep up with my stories. Thanks, Jamie!  
  
I also need to thank every person who has reviewed. It makes my day to see an 'Inbox' filled with review alerts! It's great to see that you guys are enjoying my stuff! I hope you have as much fun reading it as I did writing it (save for the banging my head against the wall and threatening to throw my keyboard! Threatening your 'muse' doesn't seem to help either...) Anyway! I'm off to other things! It's been fun!**

* * *

Sara slowly felt herself waking up, like being pulled out of a deep, warm pool. She fought it at first, but to no avail. She groaned when the light filtering in from the window hit her eyes, snapping them shut again. Then she sighed, knowing that she would never be able to get back to sleep.  
  
She tried to roll over, but found a heavy weight holding her down. She made a face, then squirmed enough so she could see behind her. It was Grissom, still in his suit and tie, his face nuzzled against her neck. She smiled, then tried again to wiggle her way out from under his arm. He sighed in his sleep, then rolled over, inadvertently giving her the chance to 'escape'.   
  
She managed to get her feet under her and stand, taking a moment to study Grissom. As she stared at his sleeping form, she couldn't stop the memories from last night from surfacing...  
  
_Sara broke away from Grissom first, smiling as she opened the door. She stepped inside, then shut the door after Grissom. For a long moment, all they could do was stare at each other, each waiting for the other to make the first move. Finally, Sara decided that it was up to her, and she stepped up to him and threw her arms around him, planting her lips on his._  
  
She smiled at the image, and the smile only deepened as she brought herself back to the present. Nothing had really happened between them. Sara had been a bit persistent about it, but Grissom had held back, telling her to wait. She'd been confused and a little hurt, but the ice had melted at his explanation.  
  
_"Think about it, Sara. I don't want our first time to be like this. In my childhood bedroom with my mother right across the house. I want it...to be special. Not like two teenagers after the prom."_ She'd ruffled a bit at his analogy, but understood it as well. And when she'd asked him what exactly he wanted to do, he just smiled._ "I just want to be close to you."_  
  
So they'd slept together, and that was it. Actual sleep. And she had to admit: she'd never slept more peacefully in her life.   
  
He shifted again in his sleep, this time rolling back over to face her, his eyes still closed. She smiled when she saw his hand searching the blankets for her, then reached over and squeezed it. His eyes opened, letting Sara know that he had been awake for a little while. He smiled when she came into focus. "Hey."  
  
"Hey," she replied, sitting down on the edge of the bed with his hand still in hers. She stared at their entwined hands for a moment, then looked up at his face, seeing his confused expression. "What's wrong?"  
  
"Are you disappointed?" he asked softly, furrowing his brow.   
  
She smiled, touched by his concern. She reached forward to gently touch the side of his face. "Not at all, Grissom. I'm glad it didn't go that far. I've had time to actually think about it, and I think it's for the best."   
  
Grissom nodded. "I want to be able to take you on more than one date," he said, a small grin on his face. "I don't want to scare you off."  
  
She laughed, then patted his leg as she stood up. She dug through her suitcase for a moment, then went to the door. She paused at it, turning around to face him. "Thank you," she said quietly, then slipped out of the door.

* * *

Grissom sighed as he sank down onto the couch, running a hand through his still-damp hair. He thought briefly about drying it, but then decided against it. He didn't feel like doing anything at the moment. After Sara had gotten out of the shower, she had gone to help Mrs. Grissom in the kitchen. Grissom then took his shower, glad to be out of the suit. He'd gone to join Sara and his mother afterwards, but his mother's suspicious glances drove him out.  
  
He had just leaned his head back on the couch when an odd noise reached his ears. Frowning, he turned towards the front door, the source of the sound. He waited a moment, then when it didn't stop, stood up and walked to it. He peered at the general scene for a moment, then began to focus as he pinpointed the sound. He groaned when he picked it out.  
  
It was his pager, vibrating on the table where he'd set it when he first arrived. He debated with himself for a moment whether to read the page or not, then remembered the threats he'd given to graveyard before he'd left. The only reason they were to page him was if half of Vegas' population suddenly turned up dead and everyone else was already on a major case. Worst-case scenario, but they got the picture. He reached down and scooped the plastic box into his hand.  
  
_Quadruple homicide. Nicky in Texas. Greg offering to help. Come back ASAP. C.W._  
  
Grissom smiled at the mention of CSI's residential lab rat, then frowned when he reread the message. There had just been a major murder, and CSI was now short three criminalists. He groaned aloud, then set the pager down on the table. He glanced at his cell phone, then picked it up as well. He was a little surprised to see _'5 Missed Calls_' on his screen and three new voice messages. He scrolled through the numbers, seeing that all of the calls generated from somewhere in the lab, save for one from Catherine's cell phone.  
  
A part of his mind telling him not to, he dialed the number for his voice mail. The first message had been sent at eleven the previous night, while he had still been out with Sara.  
  
_"Gil, it's Catherine. Just letting you know that Nicky decided to take some vacation time to visit the folks in Texas. I okay'd it, so don't freak out when you come back."_  
  
The second message was sent at two in the morning. _"Gil, Catherine again. We've got a murder/suicide called in. Suspicious circs. We're a little short on guys, so if you feel like coming back, we're fine with that!"  
_  
Finally, the last message had been sent less than thirty minutes ago. Grissom frowned, thinking that he'd never heard the phone go off.   
Grissom allowed a small smile to cross his face, then turned serious at the somber tone of Catherine's voice. He and Sara were needed back in Vegas, but he really wasn't looking forward to going back.  
  
He heard a knocking to his right, and turned to see Sara leaning against the doorjamb. She had a frown on her face at the sight of him with a phone to his ear. "What's going on, Gris?"_"Gil, we've got a double homicide plus a drug bust gone wrong. Looks like the holiday spirit has worn off and criminals are coming back out, making up for lost time. We're short on people, and Warrick and me are working at least two big cases each. Ecklie's offered to lend us some of his guys, but I don't know if I should sink that low. I've tried calling Sara, but she's not answering either. I hate to ask this, Gil, but could you please come back? We're desperate!"_  
  
"Catherine's called me five times, paged me, and sent me four text messages," he answered, holding up his phone to prove it.  
  
"Hmm..." Sara held up her own phone. "She's called me twice, paged me once, and sent three text messages. She's desperate."  
  
Grissom grinned. "Her words exactly."   
  
For a long moment, all they did was stare at each other, waiting for the other to say something. Finally Sara, realizing that Grissom didn't want to start, cleared her throat. "Well, I guess we'll have to go back a day early. I mean, it sounds as if Hell broke loose back in Vegas."  
  
"A part of it," Grissom said, studying Sara intently. She didn't seem angry or agitated at the fact that they needed to go back. She seemed...resigned to it. He thought about asking her if she were sure that they should go back, but he already knew the answer. He sighed. "I'll go tell my mother."  
  
Sara nodded. "I'll go pack up my stuff."

* * *

An hour later, Grissom was haphazardly shoving all of his stuff into his bag. He normally would have carefully folded everything to optimize his space, but at the moment he was too rushed. Catherine had called him yet again, and he assured her that he was coming back. She had sounded very relieved, thanking him and apologizing over and over.   
  
Mary, Richard, and Elisa had decided to show up again half an hour earlier, probably to beg for Christmas leftovers. They expressed sympathy to Grissom for having to cut his vacation short, but Sara thought they looked pleased with themselves about it. She half-suspected they would go into the back and dance with happiness as soon as they left. She cast a few annoyed glances in their directions, but no one seemed to notice; Elisa was too busy telling her mother about the cruise she had planned to take her boyfriend-of-the-month on.  
  
Their bags were packed, and Grissom was making one last walk-through to make sure nothing had been forgotten. Finally, he stepped back into the living room, an entomology text in his hand. Richard snorted and rolled his eyes, muttering something that sounded a lot like, "Typical."  
  
Grissom chose to ignore him, stepping up to Sara. "You almost forgot your book," he said, a tiny smile on his face. Sara returned the gesture, then took the book from his hands. "Thanks."  
  
Richard stood up, obviously anxious to be rid of the criminologists. "Well, Gil. I'm real sorry your vacation had to be interrupted. It was great to see you," he said, and Sara fought to keep herself from busting out in laughter. He held out his hand, which Grissom studied for a moment before shaking. It was a cordial gesture, nothing more.  
  
Elisa simply nodded to Grissom, muttering, "See you." Her mother made a show of giving Grissom a hug and telling him to keep in touch. She also invited him to spend a weekend at her place, but Sara could tell by the expressions on both her and Grissom's faces that it would never happen. Mary also made a point of telling Sara what a pleasure it had been, and to take care of Gil. Sara politely nodded.  
  
Then it was Mrs. Grissom's turn. She had stood back while the others said their goodbyes, not wanting to impose herself. After everyone else had finished their farewells, she stepped up to her son with a small smile on her face. She signed a few things to him, which he replied to. She signed something that made him laugh, then threw her arms around him. She pulled away a moment later, sniffing and wiping at her eyes. Grissom began to sign something, but she cut him off with a quick gesture of her hands. She then turned to Sara, who wasn't sure what to expect. She got a hug as well, and a whisper to take care of Grissom. She had to strain a bit to understand it, but when she did, it brought a bright smile to her face.  
  
Walking out to the SUV afterwards, Sara kept finding herself looking back to the house, where Mrs. Grissom stood in the doorway, waving to them. Grissom waved back a few times, then got into the driver's seat after tossing his bag in the back. Sara set hers next to his, then crawled into her seat, still unable to keep herself from looking towards the door. After staring for a long moment, she turned her head, seeing that Grissom was studying her with curious expression.  
  
"What?" she asked, in an attempt to rattle him.  
  
It failed. Instead of becoming flustered, as she had hoped, he just smiled knowingly at her. "Home?" he asked.  
  
She nodded, looking forward with a grin. "Home."

* * *

_Three Days Later..._  
  
"Hey, Nick!" Sara called, speeding up in the hallway to catch up with the Texan. He stopped and waited until she was next to him to continue walking. "You finish that double homicide in the Biloxi?"  
  
Nick snorted, his charming smile on his face. "Yeah. You'll never believe who did it."  
  
"Who? Was it the son, 'cause he seemed kind of suspicious."  
  
Nick shook his head. "Nope." He turned to look at her. "The butler did it."   
  
Sara laughed. "No way!"  
  
"I'm telling you the truth! Seems the guy was sick of only making fifteen dollars an hour; wanted more, but the guy wouldn't give it to him. So he waited until they were asleep and knifed 'em." They shared a laugh, then Nick turned serious, studying Sara. "So, Sara, how was your Christmas?"  
  
Sara smiled, unsuccessfully trying to keep it from becoming too wide. "It was great. Lots of fun. Yours?" she asked, changing the subject.  
  
"Oh, too short! I only got four days vacation before I had to come back. Barely enough time to see the decorations on the tree! I mean, it was great seeing everyone, I just wish I'd had more time, ya know?"  
  
Sara nodded, then listened as Nick detailed his entire vacation out for her as they walked. She listened half-heartedly for a while, then hardly at all when they were nearing Grissom's office. It had been three days since they'd returned to Vegas, and he'd barely spoken to her. She knew that part of it was the fact that he had mounds of paperwork plus the major cases that had popped up, but a part of her was still afraid that he'd already backed out. She separated herself from Nick, then went to her usual place in his doorway, leaning against the doorjamb.  
  
She watched him for a moment, his face a mask of concentration as he filled out paper after paper after paper. He paused to push his glasses up, then looked up when she knocked on the door. He gave her a smile, then looked down at the papers again. "Can I help you with something, Sara?" he asked, the very picture of a supervisor.  
  
She rolled her eyes, stepping inside of his office and sitting in a chair. "I was wondering, what are you doing for New Years?"  
  
A smile was his only answer.  
  
**End**


End file.
